Things That Go Bump In The Night
by KelseyCat26
Summary: Everything started with noisy neighbors from the room next door when certain lines were crossed. Then when a hunt goes magically wrong, Dean's inner chick-flick feelings emerge. Feelings that he may have for a certain angel. Will Dean sink in denial? Or will he finally come out of the oh-so-sexy closet?. M/M- Destiel.
1. Next-Door Porno

A/N: This is my break piece from True Love's Locket. I couldn't move forward on that story until this idea was gone. This was originally going to be a one-shot but I've changed my mind. I'm a huge Supernatural fan and I don't like messing with the perfection of the show but sometimes, I just need more Dean/Cas action. Anyways, this my first Destial piece, if you don't like guy/guy pairing, you're not in the right place. I rated this M, for safety reasons. I really don't want to be kicked off. So anyways, sorry about any grammatical errors, and please look past them. Happy reading. Review/give feedback if you like.

Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural. Boo.

**Things That Go Bump In The Night**

**Chapter 1- Next Door Porno**

The familiar thumping through the wall began when Dean made himself more at home in the run-down motel room. Surprisingly enough, this motel looked somewhat better than some of the shit holes that they had stayed in previously. Yea, wallpaper that was an recognizable color was peeling from the corners, brown water stains decorated the ceiling in various different places, and it obviously reeked like mold and heavy cleaners. The one perk of their motel room: It was quiet. After the kind of week Dean had, dealing with those Amazon bitches, he wanted nothing but quiet and to be away from women, for at least a week.

He propped his boots up on the coffee table with a loud thud as he lazily flipped channels with the remote in his hand. When he settle on a channel- something other than porn at his brother's insistence, but settled on something that would ruffle his younger brother's feathers anyways. As Girl's Gone Wild blared through the small speakers of the T.V, he heard a loud sigh of complaint from the kitchen. He brought the bottle of beer to his smirking lips for a swig, that's when the moaning, and groaning started to happen, along with increased thumping. Dean looked to Sam, and grinned his 'someone's getting lucky' smile at his brother. Which, to no surprise, Sam rolled his eyes at him as he focused on his beloved laptop, tracking for those bitches who disappeared.

An hour passed, and all the noises from the wall only grew louder. Dean didn't know whether to complain about the noise by telling them to shut the hell up through the wall or congratulate the stamina. As the third episode of Girl's Gone Wild flashed across the screen in the flashes and giggles from probably underage girls echoed through the room, he heard a frustrated slam from inside the kitchen. Dean turned his head from flashing women on the television towards the kitchen, where Sammy sat with his hands buried in his dark brown girlie hair.

"Everything okay in there?" asked Dean as he clicked the boob tube off and tossed the remote on the couch as he pulled himself from his comfortable seat. He leaned on the dividing wall that separated the kitchen from the "bedroom" with his empty beer bottle in his hand as Sam let out another frustrated groan at the two-seater table before standing up and grabbing his jacket from the back of the chair.

His younger brother froze at the door as he spoke over his shoulder, "I can't concentrate in here!" Sam growled, "Not with you blaring jailbait on the T.V and them," he jabbed his thumb at the wall. "I'm going out for a walk."

Before Dean could say anything about staying away from hot women and/or staying away from people in general, he watched as Sam threw open the door and slammed it shut behind him. He shook his head as he walked across the tiny kitchen to the fridge for another beer. As his hand snatched a frosty cold one, he wondered how his younger brother became such a little bitch before finally deciding it was the hair. He walked back the dark blue couch and propped his boots up again. His fingers snatched the remote and clicked the channel of flashing jailbait back on. The lust filled thumping from the next room was easily drowned out by the girls on T.V, who seemed obsolete now that Sammy wasn't here to purposely pester since it was Sam who wanted to stop driving in the first place.

If it was up to him, they would have still been on the road, jamming to Metallica or another rock band that held his heart since boyhood as they traveled to another case while they also looked for Amazons. But, bitchface had won, by being annoying, stating his precious laptop needed to be "charged" and that they needed to sleep in a real bed and blah blah blah, Dean hadn't really been listening after that, it was the only way he could handle Sam being Sam. Now, Dean couldn't deny that sleeping in a real bed would've been nice, but they way the neighbors were going at it, sleeping would be out of the question. The irony was punishment for Sam, and maybe, just maybe, his stubborn younger brother would listen to him about driving through the night instead of stopping at a Motel for a bed. There was nothing wrong with sleeping in the Impala on the side of the road.

He aimed the remote to channel flip again and clicked, when nothing happened. Then he clicked it several more times, his finger pushing the poor button down harder as the more frustrated he grew. When the blasted thing wouldn't work at all, Dean smacked it with his knee several times, and was about to change the channel then he paused when a black-haired girl with bright blue eyes hypnotized him. The pair of blue eyes were painstaking familiar but not. The pair staring at him through the T.V didn't carry the amazement wonder as the blue eyes he thought of did. Something in Dean's chest ached for his fallen friend, the angel who became like family to him. The angel had grown into someone he needed in his life but was without. Just like Bobby. A small stab of guilt for letting down those he cared about made him take a deep swig of beer from his bottle, to chase the heavy feeling away, he almost wished for something stronger.

His hand that held the remote, closed around the inanimate object tightly as he grew more heated by the way the idiot angel hadn't listened to him, when he had told Cas not to work with Crowley. Dean was angry for a lot of things that Cas did; most importantly, crumbling Sam's protective wall in his head that shielded him from his time in the cage with Lucifer. There were days, when Dean questioned his younger brother's mind and just how long it would take for the wall to truly crumble. Sam was beginning not to sleep, which made his protective big brother attitude flare, but how can you fight something that's not real? Losing Sam, after losing Bobby and Cas, would kill him, and if didn't, Dean would make sure it would. He ripped his eyes from television screen, that was showing flashes of blond girls making out now, instead of the blue eyes that he had grown to care about. He clinked the remote and the noise of the T.V disappeared just due his lack of interest for watching anything.

The thumping from the wall, along with the other sexual noises flowed into the hotel room. Sitting on the couch, alone in the room, gave Dean ideas to pass the time, below the belt ideas, just like any other man and he could feel himself growing hard tight across his relaxed fit jeans. Oddly enough, he licked his bottom lip as he realized he had his own porno soundtrack going next door, all he had to do was to sit back and close his eyes to imagine something. Dean leaned back to look at the hotel door for a moment, just waiting for the cockblocking son-of-bitch that he calls Sam to walk through the door in any second to ruin his own evening plans.

When the door didn't make movement or a sound of being opened, Dean rustled with his leather belt and unbuttoned his jeans. He slipped his jeans, along with his boxers midway down his muscular thighs, just in case Sam did decide to bolt through the door to interrupt his private session with himself. His eyes fell shut when he firmly grasped his exposed member into his hand, and began to slowly pump his firm, hard shaft. Dean began to imagine that it was the black-haired girl from T.V coaxing his body into divine pleasure. A groan escaped his lips, as the imaginary girl increased her acceleration on his shaft.

In his made-up imaginary scenario, Dean closed his eyes as her mouth closed around his head, making low humming sounds of appreciation. His fingers laced into her short hair, encouraging her to suck hard and take more of him into her throat. He gasped when his desires were met by the girl in his head and Dean desperately opened his eyes to look at her but it wasn't her. Instead, he saw Cas, pumping up and down his shaft with his red lips massaging his shaft. Dean could feel his stubble rub against the sensitive skin of his package and Dean threw his head back with a hiss of pleasure. When he lifted his head, his green eyes locked with blue eyes, that held the amazement wonder that looked at Dean which was something that Dean had missed. As the angel worked Dean with his mouth, Dean buried his hands deeper into Cas' hair, and tugging at it softly to warn the angel about his climax. When Cas' refused to come off of him, Dean choked out, "Cas...I..."

Then the angel did something with his tongue that made Dean moan and writhe his hips, ultimately thrusting himself deeper into Cas' mouth. The warm, tightness of Cas' deeper throat tipped Dean over the edge of warning. With his peak just moments away, Dean gruffly seized Cas' head and shoved the angel's mouth harder, faster on his throbbing cock. Dean would let a series of disgruntled curses as his moaning grew louder every time he would reach the deeper parts of Cas' throat. He was truly throat-fucking the angel who glared at him heatedly with his blue eyes from the attack, in their depths. Dean could see something deeper, something wild, promising him silently revenge for his behavior. Did Dean care? The answer was no, there was something about Cas' eyes that sent anticipated shivers down his spine. Did he care that he was throat-fucking a friend? A male friend at that? He had no idea, he was too lost in his pleasure that the angel was giving him and something in his chest said it felt right.

Suddenly, his seed burst from his throbbing shaft into Cas' throat. Dean watched with wonder as the angel swallowed his warm liquid down without flinching at the taste as so many other woman had complained about. Once he was spent, Dean, reaching out and snatched Cas into his arms, and began to kiss him deeply. The heated kiss, turned into something like a dominance display, it was all teeth, tongues and nails. They sprawled on the hotel couch as more clothing was lost in the entangled battle of passion. The angel was naked underneath him on second and the next-

Dean fell to the dirty hotel floor with hard thud and he quickly jumped to his feet prepared for a fight, having the knife from his boot in his hand, completely forgetting the state of his undress. When he discovered that he was alone in the room, and the only sound being the a/c unit kicking on, Dean relaxed and shoved his knife back into his boot. Warm liquid trailed down his stomach as more trailed down his thighs. Deciding he needed to catch a shower before Sammy walked through the door, he kicked off his boots, his jeans and his boxers as he pulled his gray t-shirt over his head. The golden amulet made him flinch slightly as the cold object touched his skin.

He walked nude to the bathroom and shut the door behind him. As he walked by the mirror of the bathroom, Dean caught his reflection. His lips, along with his cheeks a flushed red which made him wonder just how many orgasms he had or just how long had he been playing with himself. Dean grabbed the shower knob and turned it on to full blast. As waves of heated steam spread across the small bathroom, Dean wondered just what the hell was wrong with him and why did he think of Cas when he was...well...touching himself. Dean mentally snorted at himself, thinking that he shouldn't sound like such a girl and call it as it was. He was masturbating, and the only logical explanation of why Cas was in his sexual fantasy was because he missed the guy in the non-sexual kind of way and seeing the girl on T.V didn't help his sorrows. Dean nodded his head, completely agreeing to his theory.

As he climbed in the shower, scorching his skin with the blistering hot water, he couldn't shake off the feeling of something else. Something different. And, Dean, in usual Dean fashion, stuffed the weird feelings away under the label of chick-flick feelings. He wasn't ready to open that Pandora's box or whatever box it was. He showered quickly, letting all evidence of fantasy wash down the Motel drain. When Dean figured that he was clean enough and his feelings were under control, he turned off the water. The water drained and dripped as Dean snatched a scratchy, white towel from the metal shelf above the toilet. He ran the towel over his dripping wet body before stepping from the shower completely. Then his head started to throb in exhaustion. Grumbling underneath his breath, Dean hung his towel up neatly, just so he didn't have to hear Sammy bitch about his "slobbish" habits -Sam's words, not his.

Cold air nipped at his skin as Dean opened the bathroom door to the motel room. His pink, small nipples hardened instantly as he snatched his army green duffel from the floor onto his bed. He pulled out a pair of green boxers and slipped his feet in. He settled the waistband on his hips before knocked the bag down to the floor in a tired movement. He walked around the bed and clicked the light as he fell onto his claimed bed sideways. Before he let sleep overcome him, Dean felt for his gun that was hidden underneath a pillow with his fingertips and a small prayer that Sammy is alright. Just as his eyelashes fluttered against his skin, the thumping from earlier started began again.

Groaning, a similar frustrated groan to his younger brother's, Dean slammed his eyes shut and sandwiched his head between two pillows to try to drown out the noise. When the moaning started up again, Dean growled loudly, hoping that the horny couple would hear him through the wall and get to bed. His eyes flickered to the neon green numbers that read 3:00am. Even at his best and wanting to hump like a rabbit, Dean still needed to sleep. When the clock read 3:30am, Dean was positively fuming. He banged his fist on the wall, and growled, "Could you freaking knock boots later? I'm trying to get some damn sleep!"

He heard a small feminine giggle and a very masculine 'No' from the other side of the wall, soon followed by a small yelp and more moaning. Dean grumbled under his breath as he rolled over on his back with his eyes closed, "See if I ever save your ass from anything."

"You have saved me countless times already Dean."

His green eyes bolt open and sees Cas looking down at him in a blue sweater and a pair of blue jeans with his head tilted sideways with his eyes staring at him with fascinating amazement that he always did. Surprised, Dean stumbled up from his bed and pulled the angel into a hug automatically, completely forgetting about his anger at Cas for the moment.

Dean beamed at the angel as he pulled away, his heart slammed steady against his chest as Dean furrowed his brow together, "Now, don't take this the wrong way Cas, but what are you doing here? I thought you were dead."

Cas nodded, "I was dead. Someone brought me back."

"So, you're back together? Like together together?" asked Dean. The only answer he received from the angel was a slight head tilt and Dean knew that he would have to rephrase the question for the socially awkward angel. "Are you powered up on angel mojo now and nothing else?"

Again, Cas nodded, "I am myself again."

Dean nodded his head and muttered a heartfelt, "Good" as he licked his bottom lip and his green eyes roamed over the angel. He did look whole again, as Cas put it. He positively looked perfect again, nothing at all like the boiled mess or the oozing mess when Dean last saw him. Except the clothes, there was something so unlike Cas without his usual trenchcoat. The feeling that Dean fought with back in the shower snapped open, wide open as Dean looked over Cas' mouth, more importantly his lips. The sexual fantasy that he had earlier didn't help as he remembered just how great it felt to have Cas' mouth around him, to kiss him, to have the angel naked underneath him when they were about to- Dean shook his head as his eyes looked downward from the angel in front of him, he was hoping that the memories would rattle out of his brain and spill out on floor. That way, he wouldn't have to think about things that he never wanted to think of before.

"Dean, you look unwell." Dean looked up and found Cas deep into his personal space. Unlike any other time when Cas was in his space, Dean swallowed hard and trained his eyes away from the unknowingly tempting angel in front of him. In the empty, now quiet room now that the "thumpers" as he named them, finally screwed each other into oblivion, he heard that painfully tight lump swallow deep into his stomach but did nothing to help Dean. Instead he was only reminded just how dream-like Cas swallowed his seed down his throat without struggle. When Cas tilted his head again, awaiting Dean's prolonged answer, his Paradora's box opened wider, spilling some forbidden untamed feeling across his skin. Dean realized, when he licked his bottom again, his green eyes flickered to Cas' lips, that he wanted to kiss him, almost needed to. That thought alone frightened the hell out of him.

Cas tilted his head sideways again as he watched Dean curiously. The man in front of him seemed as if he was caught in a battle with his hands and body twitching one way then another. A feeling that was labeled as nervousness swam in the pit of his stomach when Dean looked upon his face with his usual green eyes that contained a type of heat that he knew was lust. Being an angel, Cas was taught many things, like to abide by heaven's rules then to expect the unexpected. So when Dean Winchester grabbed him roughly and slammed his lips onto his, Cas was very surprised but, as the righteous man's lips caressed his own, the feeling of surprise washed away. Instead, a growing hunger churned in his stomach as he deeply kissed Dean back. Something that he tried to bury deep within him, that something that he felt when he pulled Dean out of hell started stirred once more.

Heated passions grew as arms snake around waist and hands entangled into hair. The kiss was exactly as Dean imagined, full of nipping, exploring and fighting for dominance. Did he know who was winning? No. Did he care? Not at this moment. All Dean wanted to do was drink the man down by mouth. He felt Cas' light feathery touches grow harder on his bare back, his nails digging hard into the flesh of his back which Dean didn't mind at all. He shivered, knowing that, deep down he liked it.

His knees smashed into the back of the bed and grabbed the angel harder into his arms as they thumped backwards on the bed. Dean moaned into Cas' mouth when the angel rolled his hips against him accidentally, brushing against his almost bare erection against the hardened fabric of Cas' jeans. With all of Dean's deniable logic gone, and his questioning voice about his feelings disappeared into nothingness. All Dean, in that moment was, to feel Cas' skin against his, just like his dream. He broke from the heated passionate kiss with a gasp as he pulled at the bottom of Cas' sweater and yanked it over the angel's head. The discarded blue sweater was thrown aside uncaring as Dean pulled Cas into his arms again.

Their lips found each other quickly to continue their battle. Dean groaned a string of jumbled curses into the angel's mouth when Cas rolled his hips against Dean's. Cas smirked against the man's lips as he rolled his hips over and over again until Dean was mumbling incoherent words that made the angel smile wordlessly. Dean was lost in pleasure that he never wanted to know about as his nails raked into Cas' back.

Having another man, or in this case, an angel dry hump him to into the mattress wasn't on his bucket list, or it wouldn't be if he had one. With each roll of Cas' hip, the headboard thumped loudly against the wall, and the mere sound of what they were doing together drove nail deeper into Dean's feelings, his closet of feelings, the feelings that he plagued him and that he shoved deeper away to deny anything beyond friendship for the angel who was dominating him at the moment. His hands weaved from Cas' back, and latched onto the angel's belt.

Dean's fingers fumbled with the button and lowered the zipper slowly, not wanting to catch any precious tidbits if Cas wasn't wearing underwear. That kind of pain could ruin the moment, as he would personally know from his younger years. To his relief, the angel was wearing boxers or something that Dean noticed until Cas rolled his hips harder into him. Dean's hand gripped hard at Cas' back and the angel above him broke the kiss between to hissed. Cas' starling blue eyes when they landed on his green ones made Dean's heart jump into overtime. He greedily snatched the angel by the back of his head and kissed the living daylights out of him, with probing tongues in all.

It was when the hotel door opened, Dean froze literally. His blood ran cold when he realized what this might look like to Sam but he didn't need to explain. Cas' warm body was gone just as the door swung open with the light sound of feathers. Dean quickly sat and snatched a pillow from the floor to place in his lap to hide his excitement as he watched Sam cross into the kitchen with a bag of food, eyeballing him slowly. Dean knew that he was a mess, hell he felt like a mess. His lips throbbed from overused abuse, most likely scratches on some part of him somewhere, and his eyes glance at the clock that read 5:30am. Cas had dry humped him into a mattress for three hours and he had let it happen.

Knowing that they had to be on the road soon, Dean muttered,"I'm going to take a shower," as he tossed the pillow aside when he was settle down. He stood, and his hips ached from the humping, his man parts ached from prolonged blue balls and he needed his shower to think and stuff. Mostly to think. He needed to think about what just happened with Cas and what lines now, needed to be drawn. Dean wordlessly snatched his duffel bag from the floor and ventured into the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind him.

Sam knew what he saw, at least he was pretty sure of what he had seen. Whether or not his mind fully comprehended the scene of what looked like Cas and his brother in bed together, thankfully somewhat clothed, was mind boggling to him. Of course, he didn't say anything. Why should he? In his head, Sam knew that the fallen angel and his brother were going to end up together eventually. He took a bite from his salad, quietly munching on his "rabbit food" as his brother calls it. Sam opened his laptop gently, almost apologetic from his earlier abuse. He takes another bite from his salad and focuses on the screen before him, wildly researching for leads as heard Dean singing Back In Black by ACDC loudly in the shower. Then he just shakes his head and sighs. Some things won't ever change.


	2. No Chick-Flick Feelings Allowed!

A/N: Well apparently my one-shot turned into an idea since I'm shipping the Destiel ship hard. So, I'm going to be taking a break from True Love's Locket until this story is gone from my mind. I don't know how long it will be, I guess until my ideas are gone. I'll update when I want to, because I've been getting major headaches from stress when I say that I'll update weekly or what not. This is unbeta-ed, so excuse any grammar mistakes. Anyways, please review/give feedback.

Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural. Bummer.

**Things That Go Bump In The Night**

**Chapter 2- No Chick-Flick Feelings Allowed!**

His finger's lightly drummed on Baby's leather steering wheel while Metallica rocked through the speakers. Dean's head bopped eagerly to the music as Baby rolled smoothly on the darken pavement of the road with the familiar deep, rumble of the engine that could melt Dean's insides. The sun that rested high in the deep, blue sky beamed through the windows, and filtered through the plush, green tree lines that stretched beyond miles. The plan with tracking the Amazons faltered out when they completely disappeared from the map three weeks ago.

To his disappointment of really just wanting to gank those bitches, they (more like Sam, who was tired of hitting dead ends on any leads and called it quits like a girl) decided to move on to a different job in Iowa, where a vamp nest needed some cleaning after three mysterious deaths. It didn't take a genius to figure out what was going on, so they were the assigned clean up crew. But if they heard wind of any three-day-talking-mutant babies; they would come running. Or Dean would, man, he would come with guns blazing high and ready to kick some ass.

When the awesome, kick-ass guitar solo played on the low volume, adjusted for Sammy's delicate ears, his finger drumming turned into hand drumming as Dean sang with music, his voice matching the electric chords of the guitar. Dean's mouth quirked up into a small smile as his green eyes flickered off the road briefly to glance sideways at Sam, who was finally passed out sleeping against the Impala's glass window, snoring. The plaguing worry about Sam's condition unfurled just a bit since his brother was getting some shut eye for the moment. Dean's good mood quickly dissipated as his mind began to wonder else where.

He knew that the wall in Sam's mind was crumbling. Hell, at this rate, it was probably destroyed but Sam hadn't mentioned anything about Lucifer doing the samba or whatever else the bastard does inside his little brother's mind. For once, Dean was just glad to see Sam sleeping rather than getting strung out on caffeine like a crack addict. Some hope grew in his chest, that maybe, just maybe Sam would sleep the whole way through Missouri and partly through Iowa, to make up for any slack in the sleep department. With the whole issues with Sam's mind crumbling, Dean was happy to have a simple job, that maybe they could starting saving people like the old days, instead of sulking around a different motel room each night with worry that Sam would take off on another trip to loony town.

Though, Dean wasn't allowed to say anything to Sam about the wall, no matter how much he wanted to ask about his mental state. As a true Winchester, Sammy wouldn't talk about his issues about Lucifer or the cage. No, his little brother would get pissed off and frustrated if Dean showed any kind of concern; which included studying glances to make sure his brother was mentally functioning like every five minutes. Hey! He was only concerned for Sammy's well-being. Almost every damn night, Sam would jump down his throat about the stares or the odd treatment, swearing up and down that he was mentally fit to continue hunting. Dean wasn't so sure, hell, he knew that Sam wasn't, but his beloved little brother was a stubborn jackass, just like him. Giving up hunting when the world was crashing down around you wasn't an option. It was practically an unwritten rule to keep moving forward. And they had a lot of forward to do. Getting Dick was number one on the list, has been more so since Bobby's death. Frank was supposedly working on any leads to gank that bastard once and for all. After this simple hunt, Dean fully planned on nagging the paranoid recluse.

A small sigh escaped his lips as new Metallica song started to play and Dean lost his good mood in a matter of seconds. As he gripped his calloused fingers hard around the leather steering wheel; his mind ventured to the forbidden topic and Dean focused on the road ahead of them, determined to detach himself from the onslaught of thoughts that coursed through his mind. The past three weeks, Dean had done his own 'moving forward' from reuniting with Cas and the fucked up emotions that he had been (still dealing) with after the angel had dry-pounded him into the mattress.

After the thoughtful shower in the motel bathroom three weeks ago, that did nothing for his confused mind at the time that was still brain goo from the go-around playtime on the bedsheets with the angel. That night, Dean had the worse night's sleep, his mind replayed images, sounds or tastes and amplified it by one hundred and one sensations, he was a hot and bothered bundle of pent up ball of nasty, carnal sexual frustration. And if, by some miracle, he had managed to fall asleep some time in the night, he was immediately awaken by his own warm release in his boxers in the middle of the night. Which made him feel like he was an awkward twelve year old with big feet all over again that couldn't restrain his middle of the night boner, let alone, restrain his ability to cream his shorts when he had dreamed about his "reuniting" with Cas.

His emotions had finally caught up to him after what had happened with the blue eyed (male!) angel were a horrid mixture of lust, anger, anticipation, disgust and panic. The two emotions that he choose to entertain were, of course anger and panic. He almost lived off of one daily, the heated flame of anger that weighted down his shoulders, along with a larger heaping side of guilt and mountain of self-loathing and you had a recipe for one sexy sonofabitch. But Dean wasn't about to go full chick-flick mode. Oh no, chick-flick feelings weren't allowed.

They weren't allowed in the house, in the motel, in the Impala or even on the side of the road, damn it! The touchy feely crap was Sammy's job, the bitch had the hair for it and the 'The world is a precious thing' bullshit vibe. His job was just to kill things, because he's good at him and it makes him a badass. Besides, him, panic? Panic about his sexual dream starring Cas and then kissing him? Panic that Cas is a dude that starred in his sex dream that got him off several times beforehand and then kissing him? Panic that he didn't exactly panic when Cas began to...(he couldn't even finish that thought because he so didn't want to see the memories replay in his head for the umpteenth time especially when he was driving) and then kissing him? Did Dean mentioned about kissing Cas and his ability to not panic? Because ladies and gentleman, Dean Winchester doesn't panic. Doesn't happen. Ever. So don't try arguing.

Dean had been and still is angry at himself though. Angry at himself, that he didn't force Cas against the wall of the motel by the neck and fix his brother's damage mind right then and there but instead, managed to thoroughly taste the guy's throat. Way to be a good big brother...he definitely had his priorities in mind. Not. Dean also had to deal with his actions of...(he doesn't wanted to say kissing anymore, the mere word had his stomach in turns) " that" with Cas. What exactly drove him to "that" exactly? Dean didn't know or so he says. The velvet whispering voice in the back of his mind tells him exactly why he kissed Cas, and tells him to stop swimming up the river of denial. Dean, of course, being Dean, he mentally shoots that motherfucking voice in the face with his imagery shotgun. He had a victorious moment, until he realized with some horror, that he seemed to be having his own mental break. Apparently Sammy, wasn't going to be the only one riding the crazy train. Man, that's a good song though.

Several hours of driving later and with a dazzling red, orange, setting sun in the sky. Dean could see the lights of approaching civilization from between the darkening trees just on the road ahead. Dean looked sideways when he finally heard a loud groan from his right and his green eyes flicker to Sammy, who was slowly snapping out of his sleep coma by brushing his dark locks away from his face with his hands.

"How long did I sleep for man?"

Dean shrugged his shoulders,"A bit," lied Dean. He didn't want to admit just how long his brother slept, knowing that he would freak out for letting him sleep that long.

"We're almost there," continued Dean. Then a grin bloomed on his face as he said, "The first diner I see, I'm pulling off, I'm starving for some freaking pie." Sam only nodded his head, as he still fought with the lasting effects of sleep.

Dean managed to catch a mumbled,"Sounds good. I need some coffee," from his little brother and Dean struggled not to say anything to the crack addict about his poison. They drove into the small town just as the sun faded completely. To their surprise, the town bustled with an overwhelming amount of life. People flooded the streets and the evening traffic had them frozen on the spot with Baby's engine still a-purring.

"What the hell?" Dean questioned aloud to himself. He could hear the buzzing conversations just outside the window as they worked through stop-and-go traffic. Dean was confused and a little shell shocked, because a town this small shouldn't have so many people. This town was right in the middle of freaking nowhere and unless the locals knew something that he didn't, the busyness didn't set well with him. When they had stopped for the millionth time already, Dean heard a click from his right and the familiar sound of the door lock unlatching made him turn his head to Sam with the questioning look of _'Where the hell are you going?'_

Dean watched Sam pursue his lips in a tight line, otherwise known to Dean, as bitchface. When Dean didn't back off and locked the door from his side, Sam rolled his eyes for moment before speaking.

"I thought I would get a room for us before it became impossible," then Sam jerked his thumb to outside the window, where a motel was overly crowded with cars in the parking lot, "Unless you feel like sleeping in the Impala tonight."

Dean was going to reply that he didn't care either way. His Impala was just as good as a bed but Sammy already peeled out from the car.

"You want me to wait for you?" Dean shouted as Sam walked away.

Sam turned around and walked backwards for a bit as he called back, "No, I'll try to get us a room and I'll find you at the diner. A town like this should only have one."

"Alright. If you're not there in fifteen minutes, I'm coming to find you!" quickly replied Dean as the impatient asshole honked his car horn behind him.

Sam did a little dismissive hand wave at him, wordlessly telling him to move his ass and get going and Dean yelled, "BITCH!" with a smile on his face out the window at his little brother before burning rubber on the street.

Dean drove down a block more, and spotted a bustling classic diner like looked like it was sitting there since the 60's. It was the silver tin color around with the weird red and white window covers. Dean turned it and snagged the last parking spot in the crowded diner then got out of his precious baby. He locked her up tight and patted her hood affectionately before he walked across the darken pavement and into the diner.

A small bell dinged above his head, letting someone know of his presence. But he doubted that anyone had heard or cared because the diner was extremely busy and loud by the large crowd by the long counter. The delicious scent of food already had him salivating from two distinct smells as he stood in the doorway. One, smelled as of bacon, which made him hope there was a bacon cheeseburger with extra bacon and cheese appearing in front of him in the future. The other smell, was distinctively pie with fluffy, mouthwatering crust. What kind of pie, Dean didn't know, but he wanted some. He yearned for a good pie-gasm. Dean sat down in an surprisingly empty booth and snatched up a menu as he waited for Sam.

Sam only took ten minutes before his large gigantic frame walked through the door with a petite ding over his head. Dean waved him over and Sam approached with a grimace while running his hands through his hair. When his little brother slid into the booth, Dean had already decided what he wanted to eat but all thoughts of food disappeared when Sam visibly flinched from nothing.

Dean licked his bottom lip and leaned forward, "Is everything alright?"

Sam gave him a small grimace as he pressed into his hand. "Yea, I'm fine," grunted Sam from between his teeth as his brown eyes flickered almost panicky to the crowd of people surrounding the large counter. Before Dean could inquire anymore about Sam's condition, a wavy haired blond stood at the end of their booth with a small notebook in her hand and her pen poised. His green eyes glanced up and down her petite, hourglass frame for several seconds before placing his charming smile on. Dean, surprisingly managed to look at her face and away from her large breasts and smiled at her while she spoke.

"What can I do for you fellas?" she asked as her southern twang carried loudly through the crowd diner and his grin only grew larger. He had always wanted to bang the typical 'Farmer's Daughter' type. Dean opened his mouth, preparing to slip one of his famous pick-up lines that melt girls into butter just when Sam interrupted with a jittery, almost twitchy voice, "I would like coffee. The strongest kind you have."

The girl nodded her head and wrote in her small notebook before turning to Dean. Her smile instantly grew larger when she spotted his dazzling pearly whites. "And what would you like?" Dean thought her voice dipped several octaves when she asked him the mildly innocent question. Or, it could have been his imagination.

Lots of perverted things ran through his head at the moment. Hell, he imagined her writhing underneath him, moaning his name as he pounded his body inside of her for a brief second. Until a deeper, gravelly voice echoed through his mind and a new body replaced the girl. Dean instantly shook his head from the daydreams that turned into nightmares and the waitress began to look at Dean like he had three heads. He quickly licked his bottom lip and was determined to fix the damage.

"Hey there-," Dean pauses and flickers his eyes to her name tag over her left breast that read Sarah. "Sarah, I'm Dean," and he continued smiled at her as he said, "Can you make that two coffees?"

The poor waitress stood there, obviously frozen for several seconds with a flaming blush on her cheeks from Dean's more than obvious flirting. "Is—Is that all you would like? Or do you need a few more minutes to decide?"

"A few minutes please," replied Sam, in low, shaky voice. His brown eyes didn't glance at her for more than several seconds before turning away. Dean's brow furrowed together as he watched Sam press into his hand. His little brother's actions were lost on the oblivious waitress but not on him and she only smiled as she nodded her head. "I'll come back."

"Can't wait," smiled Dean and the waitress named Sarah scurried off. He watched her backside as she walked away with a small tilt of his head; that in the back of his mind reminded him of a certain someone. Dean sighed while shaking his head slightly. He turned back to Sam, who looked as if determined to bore a whole through the glass of the window and whispered, "What's the bastard doing now Sam?"

"You don't want to know Dean..."

He snorted, "If I didn't want to know, I wouldn't have asked. Now what's the bastard doing?" asked Dean.

He watched as Sam's Adam's apple bopped up and down in a hard swallow before he replied, "He's singing 'I Love Rock N' Roll' and headbanging."

"What's so bad about that? I mean, the song could be better-"

Sam just looked at him and narrowed his eyes a bit then grimaced again. He replied as his brown eyes stared out the window, "He's making everyone in the diner head bang their faces on any available surface. Our waitress, smashed her face into our table as she continued smiling. Dean, I can see the blood still on the table and I can't look at you right now because your face looks like raw hamburger."

Dean tightly clenched his jaw, "Thank for the mental picture Sammy. So what, the hand isn't working anymore?"

Sammy nodded and grabbed his face with his hands. His elbows rested on the table as he mumbled, "Yea, It's not working Dean. Not this time."

"Damn it!" cursed Dean as he gritted his teeth together. "How long hasn't that worked Sam?"

He watched his little brother shrug with his face still buried within his hands, "A couple days now." Dean slammed his hands down on the table violently and all the silverware clattered around the smooth surface. He just figured out that the noise in the diner had dimmed slightly, and their little spat was drawing attention.

Dean glowered at the nosy people until they turned away. Then he whirled back to Sam and hissed through his teeth, "And just when would have you told me? When we're ass-deep in a vamp nest? Or dealing with the Big Mouths? Or, perhaps, knowing you, you would wait until you reached your psychotic break before saying anything to me because you're a stubborn ass."

Sam looked up from his hands and narrowed his brown eyes, "I would've told you eventually Dean. I wanted to see if I could deal with it first."

He nodded his head almost violently, "Yea, just like you dealt with it the first couple of days after getting the whole wall in your head. That's freakin' brilliant idea Sam," said Dean sarcastically. His green eyes glowered at Sam for several minutes before stating, "You're staying in the Motel for this hunt Sam. No arguing."

"But Dean I-"

His words were interrupted by a new waitress standing at the end of their table with a black tray in her hands. She placed a white coffee mug in front of them, along with a small bowl of different kinds of creamers in between them,"Are ya'll ready to order now?" she asked as her dark eyes back and forth nervously. As if she could feel the tension in the air

Dean fully smiled at her, making a point to ignore his little brother as his eyes freely roamed over her figure. She was a curvy woman with wavy brunette hair that brushed above her ass. The waitress wore the green and white uniform that hugged her god given curves of tits and ass. His eyes barely manage to glance over her name tag, but he did without drooling on himself.

"Yea, we're ready to order Mel."

Him using the woman's name earned him a small blush that bloomed on her cheeks before Dean continued with his playboy smile on his face, "If you could give me a double bacon cheeseburger with extra bacon and your phone number, that would be great."

The curvy waitress named Mel quickly wrote down his order before turning to Sam, "Would you like anything?"

Sam shook his head, and quietly mumbled, "No thank you. The coffee will be all." Mel nodded her head and started to walk from the table.

"Hey!" protested Dean, "What about your number?"

She stopped and turned around while rolling her eyes at Dean for a moment with a playful smirk on her face, "Well, I don't hand my number out to strangers, no matter how charming. Especially those who are determined to give my staff a heart attack."

Dean smiled as he replied, "What if I apologize? Will I get your number then?" His grew more when she looked as if she was thinking about his offer. "We'll see," she replied, then she turned around and walked away.

He smiled again, and watched her tempting backside as she walked from their table and around the large counter. When she disappeared from view, Dean turned to Sam, with his 'I'm going to get lucky' smile still plastered to his face. His smile was instantly wiped from his face when Sam glared at him with his usual bitchface, that silently told Dean that his little brother was pissed at something. Dean didn't have to guess what exactly Sam was pissed about, it was in Sam's voice when he said, "Dean..."

"Sam, I thought I said no arguing," reminded Dean. But he knew it was pointless when Sam crossed his arms at him and continued his bitchface. "Dean, this is bullshit. You can't keep me in the motel while you're out hunting."

"Don't give me that!" hissed Dean. "You're in no condition to hunt while Lucy is playing a drum solo with people's faces. You're not going! I will lock you up if I have to Sam. Don't push it."

"Then who else are you going to take in as back up Dean?" asked Sam with his bitchface in full reign "I don't need-" protested Dean before Sam decidedly to cut him off.

"Are you going to call Garth? Remember the last two times that he's helped us on a case? He nearly got himself killed, and those were simple vengeful spirits. How the hell is he going to handle a vamp nest Dean? He'll be a walking hamburger."

"What's with you and the hamburger references tonight? Are trying to ruin my appetite?" mumbled Dean under his breath as Sam continued to heatedly lecture at him.

"You only have me Dean. Bobby's dead and Cas..."

Sam's voice trailed off for a moment. They haven't had a chance to discuss about what Sam had witnessed three weeks ago. That he stumbled into their room with Dean and Cas and what they were doing. He didn't want to bring it up, he had hoped that Dean would say something about it when he was ready, but as usual Dean doesn't talk about his feelings much and Sam jumped the gun. Sam ran his hands through his hair with a sigh before his brown eyes connected with Dean's slightly widened ones. Sam's eyes widened when he saw a light blush playing on his big brother's face. Then Dean's face shut down into a blank slate, and his green sage eyes narrowed for a moment, "Sam...Don't..." warned Dean.

Sam didn't listen and started to speak in his low calming, understanding voice that he reserved to use for victims on cases, "Dean...I don't care about you and Cas doing...that..." his voice trailed of into a stutter and Sam stopped talking and just sat in the booth with a growing red blush on his face.

"THERE IS NO THAT!" protested Dean, viciously crossing his arms across his chest, fighting with his body to punch in brother in his dumb face. His green flared with denial and confusion and something else that Dean didn't want to think of at the moment but he knew what the feeling was, "I don't want to have this conversation Sam," Dean's voice growled with anger.

"Well that makes two of us Dean. But you're my brother and...," replied Sam with a sigh. "I think we need to have this conversation anyways."

"No, we don't."

"I'm not dropping the subject Dean. I'll continued to talk about it through dinner, in the Impala on the way to the motel, in the motel, and hell even all night if I have too," snapped Sam.

Dean growled, "Not if I punch your lights out. That would make you shut up pretty damn quick."

Sam practically cackled at Dean's empty threat, "Like you would seriously take it that far," stated Sam confidently. " I'll make you a deal then. I'll drop the subject if let me hunt the vamp nest with you. No more arguing, no more questions about my head. Deal?"

Dean shook his head, "No way Sammy. It would be safer for you if I just punched your lights out." There was a silence between the brothers as they glowered at each other over their coffee mugs. Dean took a sip of the bitter liquid as he returned Sam's annoyed bitchface. The younger Winchester ignored his brother and asked with a straight face.

"Dean, are you gay?"

The mere shock of the bluntly asked question caused Dean Winchester to jump six feet high in the booth, sloshing hot coffee into lap while choking on the hot liquid that was currently scalding the inside of his throat. He coughed and spluttered as he glared as Sam, who was currently dying of laughter with his hands clutching at his ribs like they hurt.

"I'm. Not. Gay," choked out Dean as his sage green eyes watered from . "I'm freaking straight."

"Well, that's good to know," joked a feminine voice that interrupted the beginnings of a war. Both brothers whirled to the smiling blond waitress named Sarah that held a black tray in her hands. "I guess, I have to tell my boss that I won the bet."

Dean's stomach growled as Sarah placed his delicious, mouthwatering burger in front of him. He immediately dove into his burger, savoring the taste of the grease in the patty. When Sarah had asked if they needed anything else, Dean was too enthralled with his burger to answer. Was it even possible to be enthralled with a burger? To love a burger? Dean didn't know, but man, he loved burgers. And pie.

Dean ripped himself away from the burger to order pie but he found Sarah already to be dismissed, most likely by his annoying brother that can't shut his cakehole. No worries though, Dean would get his pie eventually. He would have his pie and eat it too. He licked the grease from his bottom lip as he watched Sam pull out his laptop and started to research. The nerd loved his research.

He chomped into the burger again and with a mouth full, Dean asked a muffled, "What's new?" as he continued to chew the burger while stuffing some greasy fries into the spare room of his mouth.

Sam only shook his head at him and looked over the screen, "I'm not telling you anything about the case Dean until you take the deal."

Dean's jaw was about to drop, along with the masticated food within in mouth. He quickly snapped his jaw shut and swallowed hard, forcing the food down his abused esophagus. "Sammy..." started Dean, which only got him a glare from his younger brother.

"Don't Sammy me, Dean. You either take the deal or not. You need me to help you and you know it," stated Sam. There was silence between them until Sammy smiled his 'shit-eating' grin, "Besides who else is going to do research? Cas?...Because I would think you find other-"

"FINE!" cried Dean, "Just stop talking about...'that'."

"Cas isn't a 'that' Dean," reminded Sam. Which earned a disgruntled snort from across the booth and a low mutter of, "I know that." Sam ignored his brother's grumbling as he glanced at the coroner's reports on his laptop. His brown eyes quickly cased over the important details of each file for each of the three victims, like the time of death, what they had died from and witnesses.

There was no witnesses which was to be expected since each murder happened at night. Each victim was quote 'Drained of all their blood' in the file, they proclaimed it was an animal attack, either a bear or a cougar. In their line of work, vamps just made more sense.

"In the reports, they're claiming it's a rogue animal attack but you and I both know that's not it. It sounds like, well you know," stated Sam, leaving out the details as someone walked by. "All happened at night, no witnesses, all blood drained from their bodies."

Dean nodded as he took another bite of burger, "Is there anymore in common? Sex? Built? Hell, even blood type?" Dean heard quick typing before Sam replied, "Yea, they all deaths happened around the same place. A few miles from each other."

"Where's that?" asked Dean as he shoved greasy potato goodness into his piehole. He furrowed his brows together when Sam sighed. "Well, it explains the crowd in town."

Before Dean could question, Sam turned the laptop his direction. His green eyes fell on the big bold red words in the middle of the screen."Goddamnit. Can't we ever catch a break?"

In bold letters on the screen, it announced deer hunting season. But that wasn't the whole announcement. In flashing blue words under the news, there was a reward to kill the animal who has killed the three hunters. The vics had another thing in common, hunting. Dean wanted to groan from the growing frustration. Every hunter would be out when the sun broke through the horizon. It was hunting season for both Bambi and Vamp alike.

"I guess we have to gank this vamps tonight before another attack," said Dean as he stuffed the remains of his burger into his mouth. "We still have a stock of dead man's blood in the Impala right?"

Sam nodded, "Yea."

There was silence between them for a few moments until Dean looked at Sam, "Are you up for this? Lucifer isn't being a bastard right now?"

"I'm good Dean. He's quiet, for once," replied Sam.

Dean nodded as doubt and uncertainty shadowed behind his green eyes before he slid from the booth to stand, "You pay the bill. I gotta go," jerked his thumb to the direction of the Men's bathroom.

Sam snorted before packing up his laptop, "Yea, whatever jerk."

The older Winchester stood there and smirked, "Bitch." Then started to walk away from the booth. He frozen half way across the diner and whirled around, "Sammy!"

Dean's only response from Sam was quirking an eyebrow at him, in a silent question of _'What?'_

"Pie."

Then Dean turned around, leaving his little brother to tend to the messy details of paying for the bill and all the social whatnots. All he wanted was Pie,well, sex would be nice. But, You can't gank vamps without pie. Bitches love pie...Wait...that wouldn't make him a bitch would it?

A/N: Next chappie: Vamp hunting and enter Cas. I'm not giving away anything else. You wanna know, read it. Please review/give feedback.


	3. Jefferson Starships Was A Great Name!

A/N: Well, here's chapter 3 and now we're getting somewhere. This chapter is un-beta-ed, so please excuse any grammar mistakes. Anyways, happy reading and please review/give feedback.

Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural.

**Things That Go Bump In The Night**

**Chapter 3- Jefferson Starships Was A Great Name!**

They had left the diner and went to the motel to research a bit more. Well, Sam researched and Dean sat in front of the small television and had his mouthwatering pie...finally! It didn't hurt that the waitress named Mel had written her number on the container. Dean had decided the faster that this hunt was finished, the faster that he could go get laid. Which was Awesome! When Sam obviously determined that it was vamps (duh!) that they were dealing with several hours later, Dean had simply rolled his eyes and they headed out. It was little after midnight when they had decided to investigate the out-of the way woodland trail that the hunters were killed and not found.

The Impala's engine echoed with the sound of crunching gravel underneath her tires. The trail was barely visible by the high beams of the Impala, Dean wasn't surprised that the hunters were ganked around this area. Trees, beyond trees, look as if they were painfully stretched for miles, blocked out any light from the starry night sky. They were least likely to find a "normal" hunter in the dark twilight. Hunting vamps in the dark wasn't the brightest idea that Dean had, but as Sam pointed out earlier: It was better them taking the hit rather than an innocent person.

Dean cringed as the trees on the woodland trail slowly enclosed around them and the low tree branches started to scrape the sides of his Baby that sounded like nails running down a chalkboard. They only drove a few more feet until the trees started to scrap at the hood and viciously around the sides. Dean threw his Baby into park, finally not wanting to subjugated his precious car to any more damage. Wordlessly, both boys climbed out of the car and automatically honed in to the truck while scanning through the wilderness that they could see. Dean quickly opened the truck to the secret compartment that he propped up with an unloaded sawed-off shotgun. His practiced hands snatched up the loaded guns with extra bullets, two machetes for the each of them, and several vials of Dead Man's blood.

Then he slammed the truck closed with a hollow thud, ruining the low chirping of crickets that had echoed through the trees as Dean muttered, "We need to stock up on Dead Man's blood after this Sammy. This is the last of it." Then Dean handed over a gun, a machete and two vials out of the original four to his brother. Sam took them without question and geared up. Both brother's looked to each other then flickered their eyes to the darkening trail ahead.

"Flashlights?" whispered Sam. Dean went into the truck of the Impala again and pulled out two black flashlights and handed one to Sam. He closed the truck quietly as he could, but the hollow metal sound echoed through the quiet woods. Dean shook his head and his hand blocked the yellow beam of the flashlight when Sam clicked it on, "We don't want to be spotted," whispered Dean. "Or ruin what night vision we have. Last resort only."

He heard Sam snort at him and Dean thought he saw Sam nod, if he had, he barely saw the movement. Dean didn't say anything, instead he started on the trail in silence and when Sam's boots joined in, the only sound was the echo of their boots crunching over the hardened rock.

"Where does this lead to Sammy?" whispered Dean. There was no longer an eerie silence surrounding them, instead the woods started to come alive. Not literally. Sam and Dean hear the owls in the trees, crunching of branches far in the distance (which made both of them alert) and other animistic sounds deep in the dark woods. At least, it wasn't a Wendigo...there wouldn't be any sounds around.

"There should be an abandoned cabin a mile up," whispered Sam suddenly. Dean only nodded, ignoring the short jump that his heart gave him. "Dude, did you just nod?"

"What's it to you?" whispered Dean, knowing full well why Sammy had asked.

Again, Dean received another snort from Sam as his little brother continued to whisper, "I can barely see you man, I'm turning the flashlight back on."

Dean let out a disgruntled whisper of, "Fine." Sammy's flashlight clicked back on before they fell back into a working silence. Each of them taking a side of the trail, scoping out the surroundings; Dean with his night vision and Sam scanning the trees with the yellow beam of light. Their footsteps quickly crunch across the harden gravel as they hiked to the abandoned cabin when a shrill screech of "HELP!" burst through the night.

Sam and Dean glanced at each for a millisecond with wide but silently understanding eyes, that each brother had said: Vamp ahead, get ready, before bolting further down the trail at a run. Dean watched as Sam's back disappeared into the dark due to his long legged stride but he could see the yellow hue of the flashlight flicking through the night as a beckon in one hand the silver glint of the machete in the other. As Dean approached pure pitch black night, he flipped on his flashlight with a short flick of his finger and ventured off into the night, determined to catch up with his little brother. He heard his Sammy's whispering in his soothing voice in the dark, along with feminine voice that sounded like a trapped animal over the slowly crunching of his boots over the gravel.

Dean could hear bits and pieces of her story as the unmoving breeze carried it to his ears. He heard Sam introduce himself and Dean, and said her name, 'Sarah.' Dean's mind automatically wondered to the blond waitress from earlier in the diner that blushed and scampered from his forward flirting. Then her small voice explain that something or someone with weird teeth that tried to bite her. Anymore of her story was lost when Dean heard a choking, wet sob in the night and his green eyes trained for Sam's unmoving flashlight that looked as if it was sitting on the ground.

His yellow beam of the flashlight crossed over the darkened path before he found his brother sprawled on the ground, with his legs open with a sobbing bright blond head pressed against his shoulder and where ever she could grab as she sat in between his legs. Brown eyes met green for a quiet moment, then Sam lightly jerked his head towards the darkened trees to the right. Dean followed the gesture and he licked his bottom lip when he found another dirt path that broke away from the main trail. Dean's eyes flickered back to Sammy's as he arched his eyebrows in a wordless conversation.

'_Girl or trail?'_

Sam looked down at the waitress named Sarah buried within his arms, who was trying to gather herself together as she gave small hiccups instead of tears, "Sarah, why were you here by yourself?" asked Sam softly as he patted her back gingerly, not knowing what else to do. I guess that answered Dean's question and his green eyes flickered back forth from the trail to his brother on the ground with the waitress.

"I...I was...on my way home," quietly replied Sarah as she wiped her running mascara from her cheeks with the sleeves of her pink sweater. Before she could continued her explanation, Dean interjected suspiciously with his gruff voice, "At night? In the deep woods? Where three murders have happened?"

The youngest Winchester gave his older brother the look deemed as bitchface for a moment before turning back to Sarah. Her brown eyes stared at Dean with a frightful expression and Sam sighed.

"Ignore Dean. He's...like a giant overgrown teddy bear but doesn't like to show it," which earned Sam a small bridle grin from Sarah and a heated glare from Dean. Then his voice carried a deeper tone, a business tone that let Dean know that he was getting back to the job and all teasing aside, "I thought the cabin was abandoned."

A sharp snap in the woods to the left made both hunters go rigid and alert. The girl let out a small fearful whine as she buried her face within Sam's neck, shaking like a leaf. They wordlessly scanned the woods surrounding them quickly and efficiently in the same pattern as before. When a opossum scampered across the trail, with its tiny beady eyes barely reflecting in the light, the rigidness of their shoulders lessened. But they knew that they were still in vamp country and needed to get the innocent to safety. Dean's sage green eyes roamed over the woods as he watched Sam turn back to the girl. He licked his bottom lip as something in his gut didn't think this was right. "I thought the cabin was abandoned," stated Sam,gently reminding the frightened girl about their conversation. She removed her face his neck with a heavy sigh and trembled slightly before replying in a tear strained voice, "It...It was. My family..just bought it last week."

Sam nodded in understanding, "Is your family up at the cabin?"

Sarah nodded weakly against Sam's chest as she crossed her shaking arms around her, "Yes. They're waiting for me to return with dinner from the diner."

Then her voice grew several pitches, obviously still scared, "But...but that thing attacked me and tried to drag me down that trail," her pale shaky hand lessened her grip on herself to point down at the darkened trail that Sam had noticed earlier, "I lost everything...everyone's going to be so upset with me."

Dean snorted, "It's better you lost their dinner than to lose you." Dean gripped his machete tight in his hand and walked past his brother. Their eyes linked together for a moment, before Dean spoke.

"You take her back to the cabin Sammy, set her family up with protection and I'll take the trail. If I don't find anything, I'll loop around and get you." He ran a hand through his short hair, "Be careful Sam, and for god's sake, don't do anything stupid."

"You're one to talk Dean," replied Sam as he wretched himself from Sarah's grasp and stood. He offered his hand down to the girl, who quickly snatched it. As Dean stood before the small darkened entrance to the other trail, he heard a small yelp and something crumpling to the ground that made him whirl around with the machete held high.

"I think I sprained my ankle," whispered Sarah, with fresh tears rolling free down her cheeks as she gripped onto Sam as he pulled her back onto her feet. When she placed her foot on the ground again, she gave out a moan of pain and instantly latched back on to Sam.

Dean looked at Sam, who watched the girl, "Sammy," stated Dean, which got the attention from the younger Winchester, "Hurry up and take her home." He only received the briefest of nods from Sam before Dean started to walk down the dirt trail alone. He could still hear his brother and Sarah as they hobbled away. Dean's eyes scanned the darkened trees as his heart pounded against his chest with adrenaline as he descended deeper into the woods with his machete ready.

His flashlight beamed was aimed at the ground as his practiced feet avoided branches and other noise makers on the trails. Dean was looking for any signs of a struggle or the waitress's packed dinners from the scuffle she had described earlier. When he reached a break in the trees, Dean saw three white boxes reflecting in the moonlight that sat perfectly before him on the trail. He licked his bottom lip and turned around and ran. He bit the inside of his cheek to prevent himself from calling out to Sam. This had been a trick. The waitress, the attack, the story, everything had been a trick. As Dean fought through the twist and turns of the trail, his mind kept replaying what that bitch had said.

_'They're waiting for me to return with dinner from the diner.'_

SONOFABITCH!

They were the fucking dinner! And Dean had sent his brother up there alone! He gripped his machete and ran, then finally broke through the trees faster than he descended down and his boots crunched over gravel again. Dean started to run up the trail automatically, not taking a break to catch his breath, wondering just how far the bitch had waited to make her move. His flashlight bobbled in his grasp as he ran. Dean ran for what felt like twenty minutes and he saw another flashlight unmoving in the dark. Dean pulled his gun out and aimed, not knowing what he would come across.

His yellow beam brightened over the area, there was no Sam or bitch in sight. Instead, Dean saw small droplets of black against the light gray of the gravel. He knelt down and placed his finger into it. Rubbing the spot against his thumb, Dean knew it was blood for the sticky metallic texture after handling it for so many years. Who's blood was it? He didn't know. But if it was Sam's, there was hell to pay. Dean would make damn sure of that. He carefully crunched up the gravel, following the dark blood drops as a trail upon a trail. He licked his bottom lip than froze when he heard a unfamiliar crunch underneath his boot.

Dean shined the light on the familiar but broken syringe and he knew automatically what that was. It was one of Sam's syringes full of Dead Man's blood that he gave him earlier. He wondered if his little brother had a chance to use it on a vamp, Dean quickly flickered his light around, looking for the pink-sweatered bitch, if she was a vamp. Instead of finding her, he found the pink sweater that was soaked in blood, but no body. Dean assumed that the other vamps took the bitch's body to their nest. Why did vampires have to hang out in groups like a high school girls going to the bathroom together? It made his job harder and messier. Not that he minded that much as long as it didn't involve Sam. But it did.

Gripping the machete painfully tight in his hand, Dean forced all of his concern and angry down his throat as he clicked off the flashlight. His footsteps quickened and he ventured up to the abandoned cabin. From the looks of the fight and the blood trail, he wasn't too far away.

Another ten minutes passed and Dean stumbled across the cabin that wasn't so abandoned, hoping that he wouldn't be too late for Sammy. He needed to focus and swallowed down the raging concern for his younger brother. Two vamps stood outside, walking back and forth as their eyes scanned the trees, as if they were waiting for him to arrive. Dean knew that he should formula a plan, but he wasn't really the planning type. He knew that he wanted to catch them off guard, it would be easier for him that way. Carefully, he crept through the woods to the back of the cabin and thanked his lucky stars that no one was bright enough to set guards in back.

Dean burst from the trees and jumped into the night shadows of the side of the house. His hand carefully pulled a syringe of Dead Man's blood from his inner jacket pocket. When he reached the corner that led to the front, Dean bent down, picked up a rock and threw it. The small rock clattered into the woods and Dean hoped that only one vamp would come to check it out. Just like it the movies, and only one did. Dean fought not to smile at his genius plan of a non-plan.

He quickly snatched the male vampire around his neck and pulled him into the shadows where he waited. Before the vampire could say anything or attack, Dean stabbed the vamp in the neck and injected the Dead Man's blood straight into the undead's bloodstream. Dean watched the vampire's eyes widened and crumpled into dead heap at his feet. A small breath escaped his lips just as he saw movement to his right but by the time he gauged to react, it was too late. His sage green eyes blinked as Dean was shoved backwards against the side of the house by his throat. The machete that he held dropped to his feet with a metallic clang.

His head throbbed painfully as it collided against the wall with a violent thud and his abused lungs screamed for air as the hands tightened against his windpipe. Dean tried to kick at the vampire's knees by means to escape and pull the hands away from his throat, which only egged the new male vampire further. If he thought his lungs were abused a few moments ago, Dean was wrong. The male vampire pushed hard against his body pinning him to the wall and letting his feet dangle from the ground. Dean let out a hard groan of protest from the pain as the vamp placed his knee between Dean's legs, that made the vampire chuckle deeply, mistaking his protest for pleasure. He turned his face away from the vampire's warm putrid breath as he spoke, "You like that hunter? I may just turn you to keep you as a pet. You're pretty enough. I can show you all kinds of things."

Dark black spots started to cross his vision before Dean could deliver a reply. He knew that he wouldn't be upright for very much longer and he didn't want to black out here, not when Sammy was still inside. His fingers gave up on pulling the vampire's hand away from his throat and desperately went straight into his jacket for the last syringe. The vampire was too busy caressing his face to realize just what the hell Dean was doing and he was thankful up until the point where the vampire placed his lips on Dean's. Full of disgust, Dean's mouth froze as the vampire tried to coax Dean into returning the kiss. Instead, he grew angry and Dean harshly jerked the syringe of Dead man's blood from his jacket then stabbed the vampire in the neck. The undead bastard howled into the night, breaking the repulsive kiss, giving Dean a chance to snatch his machete from the ground. When the vampire was on him again, Dean swung the machete professionally and he felt just how smooth the metal blade cleanly severed through the neck as blood splattered on his body.

When the decapitated head hit the ground, Dean leaned back against the side of the house to relearn how to breathe and massaged his abused windpipe. His lips still buzzed from abuse; he could feel bile threaten to climb up his throat but he swallowed it down with a grimace. Dean would throw up later when this was all over with. He went back to focusing on rescuing Sam and ignoring the little voice in his head going on about a certain angel. Now, wasn't the time to dwell on whatever feelings he had. If he had any. Everything had to be later. Hell, maybe he could throw up his feelings later. Dean would like that.

With his trusty machete in his hand, Dean rounded the corner of the house carefully. His eyes scanned the woods around him for any movement as he approached the front door. Dean licked his bottom lip and shuddered slightly from the taste as he pulled out his lock picking tools from his back pocket, placing the machete on the ground beside him. In his other pocket, he had a small knife, just in case he was without weapons like he often was in the hunting business. Kneeling down, he carefully started to pick the front door with two skinny metal rods, when suddenly, the door swung open. His face met with something that resemble a shoe before it collided hard against his cheekbone that sent Dean flying backwards from the door.

He landed on the hard ground on his back in the crumpled heap as he tried to relearn how to breath (yet fucking again). The dark black spots swam within his vision again and Dean, no matter how much he tried, couldn't fight off his tipping dance with unconsciousness. Dean let out a groan of pain as he focused on the shadow standing over him. He was going to say something on the lines of- 'Don't fucking touch me' but sudden pain blossomed over his ribs like something had kicked him. His scale with consciousness was tipped, and afterwords all Dean saw was black, and felt nothing.

"Dean..."

His eyelashes fluttered against his skin and Dean groaned at the sound of his name, not waiting to stir. He swallowed the painful lump in his throat as his head pounded against his skull. Getting up wasn't in his plans today. Yea, it was all about sleeping today.

"Dean..."

He ignored it.

Then voice grew more persistent, "Dean..."

Dean growled when his brain started to make sense and he could recognize the bitchy tone of voice anywhere, "Goddamnit Sammy, let me sleep!" snapped Dean.

As soon as the words left his mouth, his mind clicked on and became alert. The first things he noticed were, he was sitting in a hard chair that made his back throb and his hands were tied behind his back. The rope dug into his skin as he experimentally pulled at his restraints. His next observation was the odd sensation on the back of his neck that brushed across his skin lightly, he felt something move behind him. "Sammy, that better be you moving," stated Dean in abused voice, "And not some gay vampire."

Sam chuckled weakly from behind him, which gave Dean the answer he needed, "Tell me you have a plan Dean."

"I'm working on it," whispered Dean and his only reply from Sam was a low groan of disappointment, as his green eyes took in the room. It was a plain blue with deer heads decorating the walls as hunting trophies. The floor was covered in litter of paper, bottles, and dead animal carcasses. The only feature that stood out was a nice wooden table that sat in the left hand corner with lit candles sitting on the surface. Dean squinted his eyes at the familiar, larger shapes that sat along with the candles. Then, his light bulb in his noggin clicked: It was a witch's altar.

Dean leaned his head back and whispered, "Dude, are you sure we're dealing with vamps?"

He felt Sam shift behind him, "Yea. I killed Sarah with Dead man's blood when she tried to rip my neck out. Why do you ask?"

"There's a witchcraft altar in the corner. I thought you would've noticed it since you were caught first," replied Dean. He shifted in his chair to get his ass as close to his hands as possible. He started to maneuver his loose fingers into the back pocket of his jeans, fiddling for his extra knife. If he could could his bindings cut, then maybe they could wing the plan.

Sam snorted, ignoring the fact that it was Dean that sent him up to the cabin in the first place, "Well sorry that my observation skills need some work while I'm being tossed around the room like a ragdoll. I'll keep a mental note of that for next time we're captured by vampires Dean."

"Anything broken?" asked Dean with genuine concern in his voice. He felt Sammy shake his head, "I'm fine. Nothing's broken."

Dean let out a small sigh of relief, that thankfully his freakishly huge brother didn't get hurt that bad but he knew that getting throw around by vamps was no walk in the park. He finally extracted his small blade from his back pocket and flicked it open. The metal blade snapped in place with a small click and Dean began to saw at the rope binding with a slow back and forth motion.

"None of them made the moves on you did they?" questioned Dean and he swore that he heard Sam's brow furrow together. "No...," Sam replied in a hesitant but puzzled tone. "Why do you ask?"

"No reason," replied Dean rather quickly.

Of course, it was always him getting hit on by the monsters. All the monster always wanted him, well, except Ruby. Thank you for that, the bitch was psycho and annoying and anything else that Dean could think of. There was an awkward silence, Dean could feel it. He knew that Sam wanted pry more, but Dean wasn't having the 'I was mounted by a gay vampire' talk. Not right now. Dean cleared his throat and asked, "So how many vamps Sam?"

He heard his little grunt behind him and Dean tried to angle his head to see him. But he couldn't. "Sam?" Several seconds passed as Dean grew nervous. Sam would have told him if there was a monster in the room. It had to be something else.

Dean tried again,"Sammy?"

There was a light tickle on the back of his neck when he felt Sam's head move, brushing his hair against him. "I'm fine..."hissed Sam. Dean licked his bottom lip, knowing his brother too well to take that as a complete answer.

"But?"

"He's back," painfully whispered Sam. From the tone of Sammy's voice, Dean knew just who was back. Lucifer was tormenting his brother again, and with Sammy's hand tied, his little brother couldn't even test the little hand trick. Before Dean could question about Sammy's mental state, the large wooden door swung open, revealing three vampires. One, out of which, Dean recognized on the spot, "Sonaofbitch!"

"What Dean? What is it?" asked Sam and Dean bluntly ignored him. Instead his green sage eyes focus on the brunette vamp that walked into the room, leaning against the wall with her arms crossed over her chest. The other two vamps followed suit. The short-haired blond girl vamp closed the wooden door and stood by the witch's altar. The male 'boy-band' vamp stood by the brunette with a grumpy look on his face.

Dean shook his head slightly with his flirty smile and said, "Well, if I had known that we would be bumping into each other like this, I wouldn't have asked for your number."

"The other waitress!? Mel!?" exclaimed Sam as he tried to tilt his head to look. "She's a vamp?"

"No, Sam," said Dean as his green eyes stared at the brunette vampire, "She's a witch."

Mel, the waitress smiled, pleased, as she shrugged her shoulders, "Almost. I was a witch long before I was turned."

Dean smiled his usual cocky smile and tried to angle his head back to talk to Sam, "Hear that Sammy. I found another new monster. By default I get to name this one too," bragged Dean.

Behind him, Sam groaned. Dean didn't know if it was from his famous mouthing that would pissed off the witch/vamp thing or from Lucifer. His smile was still plastered on his face when he saw Mel's face morph into an expression of anger. Dean continued to do what he did best, be a pain in the ass, "How about ABBA Sam? The brunette singer was hot but I can't stand the band. So damn annoying."

Again, Dean heard another groan from Sam, and this time, he felt Sam's hair tickle on the back of his neck as his little brother shook his head from what Dean assumed, partly entertainment and shame. Shame that his older brother was pissing the monsters off, again.

"Hey, Jefferson Starships was a great name!" defended Dean.

Then the punch came.

His head rocked to the side with a loud thud. Or that could have been what he heard inside his head. Dean could taste blood in his mouth and he spit the metallic glob on the floor.

"We are not monsters Dean Winchester," hissed Mel. Her brown eyes flared with rage and disgust.

Dean smiled through his bloody teeth, "So, you've heard of me? I'm flattered."

Mel, the ABBA pushed from the wall, and stalked towards him. She stopped in front of him and caressed his cheek softly, "Who hasn't heard of the Winchester brothers? Everyone wants a piece of you; Heaven, The King of Hell, and My Father. Why is that?"

"I'd like to think that we're just awesome at making friends," replied Dean with his smartass smile on his face. Which earned him another punch from Mel in the same spot as earlier. More blood poured from his lip in a heavy drip.

"That question wasn't for you to answer," snapped Mel before she swiped her thumb over Dean's damaged lip, collecting some of his blood on her fingertip. Dean had a grimace on his face when she placed her thumb in her mouth, sucking eagerly. Her thumb broke from her mouth with a obscene pop that reminded Dean too much of something that he was trying to forget. "We've been debating just what do to with the two of you," continued Mel.

"They," she pointed to the girl vamp and the 'boy-band' vamp, "wanted to kill you. For revenge of our fallen. But I have other ideas."

He licked his bottom lip as he felt his bindings give out and he carefully gave Sam the small knife. All he needed to do was keep the ABBA bitch talking while Sam cut himself free. Then they could possibly ambush the monsters and by some freakin' miracle, be able to kill everything in this room with a small knife. "So, what kind of ideas did you have in mind?" asked Dean as his eyes watched Mel. She caressed his face again, then grip his jaw tight with her hand, "I'm going to turn you."

Dean ignored the feeling of his blood turning cold in his veins as he remembered how it felt to be one of the undead. His ears could hear blood pounding through the thick meaty heart, each thump had tempted him to sink his teeth. To dare taste the thick metallic liquid that pulsed through Ben and Lisa's veins. He had been so close to attacking them, at this moment Dean could still feel his vampire teeth that he no longer had bared to the moonlight. He swallowed his pulsing fear, knowing that there was a cure, as long as he didn't feed. Wearing his bravado as a façade, Dean smiled at Mel, and spoke.

"Sorry, but I think I speak for both Sammy and me when I say we're not interested in your lifestyle."

The vampire-witch huffed at Dean with his face still in her hands, "You know, I'm getting really sick of your smartass answers Dean. Can you honestly say that being a vampire was terrible? You were perfect. You were the perfect hunter for the short time that you were one of us."

Dean shrugged his shoulders, "Sorry, but we're not interested."

Mel let go of his face with a small shove and a playful slap as she spoke, "That is the second time you've mentioned the word 'We.' I never mentioned anything about turning your brother. You'll need something to satisfy your bloodlust as a newly-made."

"You sick bitch!" shouted Dean. "I would kill myself before attacking Sam."

The ABBA bitch literally sighed in his face, puffing her warm metallic breath on him. "That's what I thought. You wouldn't willingly want to take the change."

"No way, you need something way better than cookies to get me to go dark side," joked Dean. His laughter at his poor attempt at a joke died when Mel's heated eyes glared at him before she walked behind him. Dean arched his head to see what she was doing back there, but he couldn't see shit. His heart jumped in his chest as he heard Sam's voice hissing "No" over and over again just before there was an audible snap and Sam's voice crying out in pain.

"Leave him alone you sonaofbitch!" shouted Dean.

It took every fibrous ounce of his will to not jump from his chair and attack the bitch. With Dean's outburst, there was another snap, and Sam cried out again. His body trembled with anger and unadulterated rage to slit the waitress in half. He bit his lip when he felt a light hand play over his shoulder, her lips breathed warm air into his ear as she whispered, "No more comments from the peanut gallery or I'll break another one of your brother's fingers."

Dean bit into his bottom hard enough to open the cut from his earlier abuse and he could taste blood in his mouth. His sage green eyes wordlessly promised to kill her as she walked from him and to her altar. "Luckily, I know a spell to awaken your desires. All I have to do is add my blood to complete it."

When the bitch had her back on them, Dean felt the knife being placed into his hands, signaling that Sam was now free. "Sammy?" Dean made his name a question as he shoved the blade back into his little brother's hand. Asking with just one word if Sam was up for the fight. Not that they had much of a choice if they wanted to get out alive.

"Dean," replied Sam.

They burst from the chairs with not much of a plan, just to only survive. Dean barreled towards Mel in a tackle, crashing the both of them into her altar. Hot wax burned at his skin as he landed several good hard punches to her face to hopefully disorient her. He looked for any kind of weapon just as Dean heard an unfamiliar cry behind him. His green eyes whirled to find Sam decapitating the 'boy-band' vampire with the small knife before his large brother got picked up and thrown literally through the wall by the blond vamp like a ragdoll.

When he heard,"You shouldn't have turned away Dean," it was too late and he was magically slammed into the wall. He couldn't move an inch of his body as Mel picked herself up from the ground and brushed off the dust from her waitress uniform. "That wasn't very nice."

Dean tried to shrug but failed to move against the Mel's magic, "I'm not known for my niceties." He could hear thumping and more crashing in the distance as he watched Mel gather her magic supplies again and she held her bloodied wrist over a silver goblet. Dean only hoped that Sammy was faring better than he was at the moment. He might need the cure after all.

Her heels clicked angrily as Mel closed the distance between, chanting.

_'Excitetur in desideris'_

Dean flinched as she placed her palm over his heart. He watched as her eyes turned black like a demon, and he gave a desperate yell of, "SAMMY!" She smiled at him with vampire teeth as she continued her spell.

_'Flagrans igle viva'_

His chest began to burn. He could feel pulsing warm waves traveling inside of him in every corner of his being. Dean bit his lip as the inside of his eyes began to glow white, and the heat intensified; he slammed his green eyes shut, hoping to subside the blinding heat. There was a high pitch buzzing from inside his head and he fought not to scream from the pressure. The only time that his ears had painfully hurt like this was when Cas wasn't in his vessel and he was trying to make contact in his pure, angelic form. He heard the bitch's voice over the ruckus inside his head as she continued to fuck with his desires. To make him desire to be a vampire.

_'Quae non in perpet-'_

Her voice suddenly stopped, along with the chaos in his head. His green eyes shot open and saw Sam still holding onto the bitch's shoulder after he slashed through her neck with the small knife. Relief and gratefulness washed over him, along with blood, as he watched as Mel's black eyes morph back to normal but dead brown before her head slid off of her neck. Her head landed on the floor was a sickening splat as Dean could feel his body again. He flexed his hand experimentally for a moment until he heard a grunt and a metal thud.

He watched as Sam fell to his knees with his hands in his hair at first, grabbing tight at the long locks then to choking and clenching at his throat with his hands. Dean went to him, and gathered what he could of Sam into his arms, patting him on the back. Saliva poured from his younger brother's mouth as he doubled over and Dean left his side looking for a hex bag, wondering if the damn witch had a back plan. Tearing at the room wildly, throwing animal bodies around, ripping animals heads from the wall, Dean's heart froze when he heard a heavy thud. Spotting Sam laying sideways on the floor, unmoving, Dean rushed to his side and felt for his younger brother's pulse. The thick pounding on the side of Sammy's neck let him relax enough to let out a shaky breath.

Dean jumped slightly when he heard a raspy, "I'm fine," from below him.

He huffed at Sam, " Dude, you didn't sound fine."

Sam weakly chuckled at Dean as he sat up from the floor. His brown eyes connected with Dean's obviously concerned green ones. He mindlessly brushed his mane of hair back from his face and smiled at Dean as he said, "I feel better than fine. Great actually."

"Yea? What makes you say that Sam? Because from where I was standing, it looked like your were choking on your own tongue," said Dean, as he stared at Sam like he had some brain damage.

Sam ignored his brother's attitude and with a clear head, he whispered, "I can't see Lucifer anymore."

"WHAT?!" shouted Dean. His surprised echoed reverberated around the room. "What do you mean you can't see Lucifer anymore?"

As Sam moved to stand, his fingers lightly brushed on something cold and his eyes spotted a small golden box that was sitting on the floor, still glistening in his saliva. That box was the reason why Sam was choking. During his brother's massive destruction of the room, Sam had hacked that thing up his windpipe. Through his watery eyes, he had watched Lucifer being sucked into the box, kicking and screaming, before slamming the lid shut. Now, Sam couldn't hear that bastard anymore. Now, his head felt better than ever. He felt like himself before he went to hell. Sam smiled at Dean, his same old smile that he wore when he found Dean to be a source of entertainment. His older brother just stared at him, with his green eyes full of bewilderment and confusion. "I said, I can't see Lucifer anymore."

He partly expected Dean to hug him in happiness but his brother looked more confused than ever. Dean's confusion reflected in his voice as he asked, "But...how?"

"I have no idea!" replied Sam happily. He wasn't going to question it. They both raised themselves from the floor and stood. One brother was completely and utterly happy for his new wave of sanity...and quiet. The eldest Winchester was confused as hell but happy as well, he wanted Sammy back together again. His green eyes watched as his giant brother bent over and snatched something from the ground, "What's that?" asked Dean as he motioned with his eyes to Sam's hand.

Sam held out a small golden box that sat in the palm of his hand, "Lucifer's box. I guess. I saw him get sucked into it." And he seemingly chuckled to himself. A box was as good as a cage. Sam wasn't going to bitch, for once. When Dean didn't question anymore about it, Sam stuffed box into his pocket. He smiled almost evilly when he heard muffled complaints from inside. Sometimes, revenge could be oh-so-very-sweet.

Dean licked his bottom lip as he watched Sam stuff the tiny box into his pocket with a somewhat frightening grin on his face. A grin that could frighten small children. He knew better than to ask, for once, he didn't want to know. He glanced around the room, hoping to find their weapons when suddenly he heard a light flutter of wings along with a small breeze. Cas, stood before both brothers in his usual 'Nerdy angel' attire, and his stupid, but surprisingly sexy trench coat.

Wait? What?

He shook his head while his fingers buzzed as he wondered just how soft Cas' sex-tousled hair would feel in his hands again. How his lips would feel against his again. How warm and firm Cas' body would feel underneath his or on top. Dean could feel heat pooling into his lower abdomen when the angel collapsed on the dirty floor, breathing heavy.

"Cas!" shouted Sam and he immediately ran to the fallen angel's side. Dean, on the other hand was frozen to the spot, as he saw them. The dark shadow of wings that Dean had seen in barn was nothing compared to seeing them for real. He took several light steps forward with his hand outstretched to touch them. Cas' wings were something of wondrous beauty. Not that he would say something that gay aloud. The tip of his finger trailed over the tip of a shiny black wing and a spark of pleasurable electricity jolted through his arm, to his hardened manhood that was thankfully trapped in his bloodied jeans.

Dean lightly touched the feather again, making himself moan, "Cas..." and the wing underneath his touch shuttered and drew closer to him. He felt his heart stop when his green eyes met with Castiel's extraordinary blue ones as the angel stared at him from underneath his dark lashes. The pureness of the blue took his breath away, and in the back of Dean's mind he knew that he had never seen anything as beautiful as those eyes. Then Dean crumpled to the ground with a hard thud, completely passing out and Cas shortly followed.

Leaving a blushing, bewildered and confused Sam in the room to deal with their unconscious states.

A/N: Okay. I suck at Latin. I just placed what I wanted to say in a google translator. The latin says- 'Awakened desires within, burning pulsing fires, will not be contained, forever.' So, yea, I suck at Latin. Anways, please review/give feedback.


	4. Feeling Are a Bitch

A/N: Okay another chapter. Hope you guys like it. This story is un-beta. Sorry for any mistakes.

Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural.

**Things That Go Bump In The Night**

**Chapter 4- Feelings Are A Bitch**

Sam's large frame buckled, sending him crashing onto his knees when Cas suddenly became dead weight in his arms and for a 'nerd angel' Cas was surprisingly heavy. His knees still throbbed from the hardened contact of the wooden floor. With mounting concern for his older brother, who just laid on the ground, unmoving after...moaning Cas' name in such a pornographic state that made Sam blush. He never wanted to hear that sound in his life again...without earplugs. Shoving some more therapy worthy scars to the side and deep into his mind, Sam gingerly laid the unconscious angel on the floor. Then rushed to Dean's side. He was freaking worried and confused about just what had transpired and the fact that Dean still hadn't moved was unnerving as hell.

He flipped Dean over, and his older brother's arm flopped down like a dead fish to his side. Immediately, Sam knew there was something wrong. His brother's stillness was too abnormal, even for someone who just passed out. Sam cased his eyes down at Dean, inspecting, than he realized that Dean wasn't breathing. "Dean!" cried Sam and he started to pump at his older brother's chest, ignoring the underlining of pain of his two broken fingers.

"Come on...Come on...Come on!" grunted out Sam in a chant as he slammed his whole weight into the chest compressions. Sweat beaded at his brow from the exertion and fear; fear that he would have to live without Dean again. His hair flew into his eyes as he braced himself on his knees, pressing his weight harder into Dean's chest as he did compressions. As long as his brother was alive and well, Sam didn't care if he broke a rib or two in the process. Ribs would heal. Feverishly, Sam pumped at Dean's heart, his breathy chanting turned into anger, "COME ON, YOU JACKASS! WAKE UP!" Sam shouted at Dean's unmoving body.

Sam's compressions slowed, as his mind wheeled, his anger was overwhelmed by desperation, "Please, don't leave me." Sam's voice was barely a whisper, barely containing the bitter loneliness that threatened to crush his spirit and his will to live. Screw whatever promise they had. Sam wouldn't, couldn't move on from Dean's death, not this time. "Dean," His brother's name, was his last small desperate plea.

His voice reminded Sam of when they were kids, when he was weak and scared of the world around him, and how Dean would comfort him when he was 'being a baby.' In the barely lit flame of hope still in his chest, Sam hoped that Dean had heard it. That maybe, just maybe, Dean was fighting to live. When his brother remained motionless, and not breathing, Sam collapsed to his side. With shaky arms, Sam gathered Dean's head in his lap, hoping that his brother would wink at him, and let him know that it was alright. To offer the same comfort now, as his brother did then. Sam bowed his head down, lost in his own grief.

Sam missed the light rustling of clothing behind him and he jumped slightly when a deep, gravelly voice said, "Sam" from behind him. He whirled his head around with warmth still swimming at his eyes. His voice was barely a whisper when his brown eyes connected with Castiel's blue ones then looked down at Dean, "Help him." There was so much crap between them at the moment, with Castiel's sudden appearance to being that it was Castiel's fault that he was losing his mind to the free roaming Leviathans, but none of that mattered. Right now, saving Dean, did.

From where Sam sat on the floor with Dean's pale head in his lap, Castiel looked at if he would kill over at any point. The angel's breathing was erratic, and thin sheen of sweat hung from his forehead. But Sam was desperate, he knew that Castiel could see it. For once, Sam could see the swirling emotions of concern and desperation mirrored in Castiel's eyes instead of his blank empty slate. The angel swiftly crawled to them with tremors raking at his smaller frame that just proved to Sam that the angel wasn't feeling any better. Each movement was an effort as Castiel crawled, as if he didn't trust his feet to carry him, but his blue eyes were only fixated on Dean.

"Please just try Cas," said Sam and looked to the angel for something, perhaps reassurance. Castiel had saved his brother once from the deepest depths of hell. He could save Dean again; he had too. Castiel was Dean's angel, regardless if the three of them got along or not. Their eyes met again, and Sam nodded, signaling wordlessly to try. Sam watched Castiel's face set into a grimace as he moved to place two fingers on Dean's forehead, just as he always did to fix them. Instead, Castiel's hand caressed the side of Dean's face, almost like a lover, if not just as gently as one.

With a heated blush on his face, remembering just what he had seen three weeks ago and feeling as if he shouldn't be watching; his jaw dropped in awe as Dean's face began to glow a pure white. The brightness traveled down Dean's body in tangled ripples, and only grew brighter with a heated light which made Sam close his eyes. Sam flinched in pain as he ripped his hands off of Dean when the heat grew too much for him to handle. A high pitch sound entered the room and Sam slammed his hands over his ears, shouting, "CAS? WHAT'S GOING ON?!"

The angel's healing powers never put on a light show or a heavy screeching concert before. Though, it was over before it really begun and the shining light that shone in through his eyelids, disappeared. "Cas?" Sam made his name a question that could be easily translated from Winchester lingo to socially awkward angel, _'Hey, is the blinding light show over with? How's Dean?'_

Mentally, Sam prayed for good news; hoping, wanting, needing Dean to live. Living without Dean the first time around nearly killed him. Sam knew that he wasn't strong enough the handle another go around. Surprisingly, Sam did pray, maybe not as often as other people but he did more so than Dean. Unless Dean was praying to Castiel. His brother had him beat there. Praying to Castiel happened a lot more before the angel's supposed death and the incident three weeks ago.

"You can stop praying Sam," stated Castiel, "Dean will be fine. He needs to rest." Sam immediately stopped and peeked his eyes open to find Dean's chest rhythmically rising and falling. He turned to Castiel and gave the exhausted angel a small smile of gratitude, "Thanks Cas." The angel only nodded and the air between them grew tense.

"Cas..."started Sam, but when Castiel looked at him with heavy tired eyes, the conversation to 'clear the air' had to wait. Besides, there was so many questions that needed to be answered and so many things that needed to be said. Sam really had no idea where to start. Instead, Sam cleared his throat and looked down at Dean then back to Castiel. With another small smile on his face, Sam spoke, "First, we should probably get Dean back to the motel. When he wakes up, he's going to want to shower and eat."

Talking about Dean or things relating to Dean or even talking about Dean's well-being made the tension in the room a little easier between them. Castiel only nodded his head at Sam and replied,"Very well."

He quickly closed his eyes as Castiel's fingers approached his forehead and Sam quickly braced himself. There was a light tap right in the middle of his forehead but when the sensation of smothering air didn't press against him, Sam peek his eyes open. His brown orbs found Castiel staring at his hand in shock. The angel's confused blue eyes met with Sam's as Castiel spoke, "I do not understand."

The only comfort that Sam had to offer was a light pat on the angel's arm. "It's okay Cas. You're probably just drained from helping Dean."

Castiel nodded lightly, "Perhaps, you are right Sam."

The angel from heaven wasn't so sure, there was something odd, something different between the profound bond that he shared with Dean. He stood and was surprised that his legs gave a weak tremble underneath his weight. It was such a human feeling that he hadn't thought possible. At least not for himself, not when his grace beat strongly against his chest.

His vessel was no longer borrowed, Jimmy Novak had been gone since the Leviathans broke free. He had a sudden realization then, and looked down at Dean resting in his lap; Castiel thought himself as a person. As a human, with 'angel mojo' as Dean had put it. As his blue eyes roamed over the human in his charge, something in his chest pulled at him. A stronger pull than he had since he pulled Dean from the pit. Something that wanted Castiel to act upon, but knew his affections would be unwelcome even if they had kissed. Castiel swallowed the lump in his throat as his eyes studied the planes of Dean's body sensually but quickly broke away when Sam spoke from the floor, "Are you strong enough to help me carry Dean to the car?"

Sam saw the unsteady sway of the angel and he wondered if Castiel would be well enough to help him. His two broken fingers were nothing, but his back started to throb with complaint since the job was just about over. He should be used to being thrown through walls, it was like a monster's acknowledgment that he was dangerous. It was a pain in the ass complement.

"I can," replied Castiel.

Sam just nodded, "Actually, can you stay with Dean while I," he motions to the dropped vampires, "finish the job?" He knew that Dean would get after him about it when he woke up. The only reply he received from Castiel was the barest of nods. Sam grabbed Castiel's trench coat and gently tugged, "You think that he could rest on you?"

"Of course Sam."

The angel sat down beside Sam, offering his knees as a pillow for Dean's head. He watched as Sam gently maneuvered his brother into his lap. When Dean was as comfortable as he was going to get in his sleeping state, Sam grabbed the small knife from the floor before standing. He shoved the knife into his belt loop and threw the vampire heads and bodies through the hole in the wall. "I'll be back shortly," stated Sam and he left the room. Castiel was left alone with Dean, hearing Sam's footsteps traveling away from them.

When they were alone, his hand automatically laced through Dean's short hair to offer comfort. Castiel watched with mere fascination as the soft locks of hair would fix back into place after every stroke. He mentally promised himself that this would be the second and final time that he would let his feelings for Dean emerge. Brushing Dean's hair with his fingers was such a simple gesture that made his heart pound. Castiel savored this moment, touching Dean like this, knowing that if the hunter was up and walking, his gestures would be an invasion of personal space and would most likely freak Dean out.

Castiel knew more about Dean than Dean knows about himself. His grace and his hands put Dean back together again from the pit, Castiel knew the hunter's preferences didn't matter. Dean, on the other hand, preferred women because he didn't want to explore that side of himself. Which Castiel was indifferent, just because he wanted Dean's happiness. He was more than content being by the hunter's side, in being a friend and an ally. The pursuit of romantic love was confusing by nature anyways. He wasn't human enough to understand the feelings that he has for Dean but not angel enough for him not to experience the feelings. It was all very confusing. Though, deep down, Castiel knew that he was falling for Dean Winchester. That an angel of the lord loved a human.

He didn't know when the feelings began, maybe just over time they grew into something more. Maybe it was three weeks ago, when Castiel heard Dean's voice in his head, calling for him, that awakened him from Emmanuel. It wasn't coincidence that Castiel went to Dean that night. The throaty moan of his name made Castiel seek out Dean. Never did he think that the hunter would kiss him, let alone, to be able to hold Dean's almost naked body against his own. Sending the hunter trembling under him with the thrust of his hips. Castiel shivered at the memory, let himself wonder what would happen if they didn't have the layer of clothes between them. His human feelings were more pronounced than ever. Usually, he could suppress them, but now it was different.

The bond that he had shared with Dean for many years now, felt raw and new. Every human emotion, every hunger, every desire throbbed within his very being. It didn't matter if those desires were his or Dean's. The desires were there and the burned within him. Castiel would try his best to restraint against the human desires that pulsed; driving pools of heat into his lower abdomen. He closed his eyes for a fraction of a second, as he focused on the problem. His control would fade eventually under the crushing heat between both Dean's and his desires.

Before Castiel knew it, he had opened his eyes and watched in pure captivation as his thumb rubbed Dean's plush bottom lip that the human licked out of habit often. Slowly, he bent his back, arching his face and mouth to align with Dean's. Castiel shuddered as he felt Dean's warm, tempting breath on his own throbbing lips. They were mere centimeters apart, and Castiel wanted, needed to close the distance between them, knowing that he would never get another opportunity to display his feelings to the man in his lap.

It was the faintest brushes of lips but it sent goose-flesh shivering up his arms. Castiel didn't want to pull away, Dean's scent, his taste was too overwhelming for their new profound bond. As he dove to steal another forbidden kiss, Castiel heard approaching sounds of only Sam's thudding footsteps against the wooden floor; he quickly snapped away, and moved his hand from Dean's hair. Putting on an act of innocence; which wasn't too difficult, Castiel was an angel after all. His bright blue eyes were trained at the doorway seconds before Sam appeared.

"Hey Cas," greeted Sam, who walked through the door in a thin layer of sweat and dirt with their missing weapons in hand. "How's Dean?"

"Resting," replied Castiel simply.

He heard Sam snort with his reply, "Yea, thanks Cas."

Apparently, still after many years of being around the Winchesters, the concept of sarcasm was missed by the angel. In Castiel's deep gravelly tone, he replied with, "You're welcome Sam."

Sam let out a small entertained chuckle as he ventured further into the room next to them. The taller man knelt down and threw Dean's arm over his shoulders. Castiel followed suit, but not before resting Dean's head gently on the floor. With a simple tug upright, Dean's arms were around their necks, his head brushed on Castiel's shoulder and they awkward shuffled through the cabin with Dean's feet dragging behind.

Bright, warm sunlight greeted them like an old friend when they passed through the main doorway. Their feet crunched across hard gravel as they went. After what felt like twenty minutes or so of walking, Castiel could feel the sun burning down on him. The heat beamed on his back and he could feel rolls of sweat beading down the small of his back, making his many layers cling onto his skin. His breathing came out labored from between his dry lips as he spoke, "When your brother awakens, I suggest that we converse to him about his consumption of unhealthy foods."

Sam laughed again then paused in mid stride and looked to Castiel with a shocked look on his face, "Dude...did you just make a joke?"

Castiel paused, tilting his head. He contemplated for a moment as he reflected back to his words, then blinked blankly at him which made Sam laugh harder this time with a pained look on his face, "You didn't know that you made a joke," he gasped through his laughter.

He just looked at the younger Winchester laughing, not understanding why this situation was so funny. Eventually, Sam's laughter subsided to small snickers now and then with a smile plastered on his face as they continued dragging Dean back to the car. After a short while, the Impala sat in rays of sunshine that made her hood sparkle. The sun beams shone brightly on the dark car, drawing them in as a moth to the flame.

Castiel only wished for Dean to be awake to admire the view; he knew the hunter would enjoy "his baby" being showcased like that. Though Castiel still didn't understand the concept, Dean's car didn't not have a gender nor was it a baby but the hunter insisted that cars were girls and babies. Humans customs confused him almost as much as feelings. They paused when they awkwardly groped Dean for the car keys as he hung between them still resting from whatever had happened. Castiel ignored the taunt muscle underneath his hands as his fingers fished through the pocket of Dean's blue jeans which turned empty. Sam face's was a slight grimace as he yanked the Impala's keys from the opposite pocket.

When the door was finally unlocked after many awkward tries, they placed Dean into the backseat of the Impala gingerly, knowing that Dean would bitch about the bloodstains on the interior later. They both climbed in, Cas in the front passenger side and Sam behind the wheel. The Impala's engine purred to life as Sam started the car with the turn of the key. There was silence between them as radio softly played rock music as Sam backed out of the gravel trail.

Trees scraped the sides of the Impala until the car finally turned back onto paved road. As Sam drove back into town, neither man missed the low growl of, "Cas..." coming from the back seat. Castiel whirled back to look at Dean as Sam shot glances over his shoulder as he fought to pay attention to the road and wondering about Dean.

"Dean?"

Castiel made Dean's name a question with some hope that the hunter would sit up and complain about the bloodstains in the Impala. Instead, the man laying down in the backseat only trembled and lowly moaned his name again in his a husky tone, this time reminding Castiel of Dean's voice three weeks ago. He reached back and gently brushed a fingertip over Dean's forehead. The low moaning subsided, but Dean's breathing was still erratic. Castiel settled back into the front seat and licked his bottom lip- a habit that he undoubtedly picked up from Dean. His blue eyes settled looking out the window, looking at the passing trees.

There was a pause, then Sam spoke,"What's wrong with him?" asked Sam with the earlier blush on his face back on full force, "Why did he...moan like that?" His hazel eyes glimpsed from the road to Castiel.

"I belief there is something wrong with the bond that I share with your brother, Sam. The bond is raw and open, I believe that Dean is channeling some feelings of mine, as I am of his," replied Castiel.

Sam furrowed his brow as his eyes settled back to the road, "A bond? How did the bond with Dean happen Cas? Why didn't we know about it earlier? What feelings?" asked Sam.

Castiel licked his bottom lip again, with some uneasy nervousness churning in his stomach. The angel navigated through Sam's bombardment of questions, "I created the bond so I could pull Dean from Perdition and fix his broken body. Knowing about the bond wasn't important;Dean is able to live his usual day to day life without feeling the pull. He is not drawn to me as I am to him."

Sam skipped over the angel's reply and focused back to the question that drove his curiosity oddly wild. It was border line of wanting to know, but hopefully not needing brain bleach later. "So how drawn to Dean are you?" Castiel refused to answer. He did not want to make the conversation awkward with Sam, nor risk Dean eavesdropping on a conversation that would undoubtedly...Scare? Him.

The youngest Winchester took the angel's silence for something more. With his eyes still on the road, they were quickly approaching the town as small houses started to come into view. Sam cleared his throat with nervousness, "In more simplified terms, you're saying that you have feelings for Dean," stated Sam carefully. "What kind of feelings? Do you lov-"

"They are of no consequence," interrupted Castiel quickly. His feelings were of no consequence. There was no sense in focusing on something that would not be welcomed or reciprocated.

Instead Castiel switched topics to something a lot more important."What matters is the rawness of the unpredictable bond that your brother and I share. I came to your location as soon as I felt the shift, and having your brother touch my wings was all the proof I needed to know that something had happened. Did something occur while you were hunting?"

"You can say that..." trailed off Sam. As his mind flashed back to cutting off the waitress named Sarah's head. There was silence in the car minus the soft music and Castiel grew impatient, another human emotion that he did not have much experience with.

"What were you hunting?" snapped Castiel. His gaze from the lines of green trees to the younger Winchester and his blue eyes stared intensely at him as Sam drove. Sam cleared his throat awkwardly, trying not to let Castiel's stare down faze him. He didn't know how Dean dealt with it all the time, "We were hunting a nest of vamps, but there was a witch among them."

Sam paused for a moment to glance at Castiel, who looked as if he waiting for Sam to continue as his mind processed the beginnings of the story. "She wanted to turn Dean with his permission oddly enough. When she mentioned that they would be using me as breakfast. Dean refused. So, she spoke of casting a spell to make Dean desire to become a vamp. I didn't catch everything, I was handling two other vamps as Dean handled the witch. When I came back, she had Dean pinned to the wall, and she was chanting something that sounded like latin. Yea, I'm pretty sure it was latin, I know a couple of words like desire, burning, and forever. I sliced her head off just as Dean's eyes began to glow. Do you think that her spell was completed? That, she made Dean desire to become a vamp?"

"I do not know," stated Castiel. His eyes flickered over his shoulder to Dean before replying, "I will go to heaven to investigate further."

Sam nodded and expected to hear the familiar sound of a disappearing angel but nothing came. Out of the corner of Sam's eyes, he saw Castiel still sitting in the passenger seat with his eyes shut tight. He had to bite the inside of his cheek when Castiel's face morphed into a concentrated expression, that reminded Sam of pooping, just as Dean had teased before. His voice came out steady, full of sympathy as he spoke, "I guess it's researching the other way then."

Even as Sam drove, he didn't miss the flash of agitation that crossed over the angel's face. A grimace that oddly looked similar to his brother's. Perhaps, Castiel was channeling his inner Dean or his feelings as Castiel had mentioned. "Hey, don't worry Cas. I can use another pair of eyes to research since you're down here. We both know how Dean is..." smiled Sam, implying that they both know how much Dean hates researching. If the reading materials don't include tits or cars, Dean would want nothing to do with them.

Castiel nodded, "I will assist you then."

They fell into a silence as they drove into the bustling town in the afternoon. It took them an extra ten minutes to drive across town and pull in the motel parking lot. The purring of the Impala stopped when Sam pulled into an empty parking spot and cut the ignition. The younger Winchester looked to Castiel, as the angel stared through the windshield and at the red bricks of motel. Sam smoothed back his long hair and cleared his throat nervously; knowing that he needed to get this talk off of his chest.

"Cas..." started Sam. When the angel didn't react or acknowledge him speaking, Sam continued as his eyes stared out the windshield as well.

"I don't know how to say this Cas, but here goes nothing. I don't know how you managed to survive after being destroyed by the Leviathans, but I'm glad you're back. Dean's glad you're back. Regardless of everything I..." trailed off Sam.

Castiel looked at Sam, it didn't take angelic powers to see the obvious expression of forgiveness on his features. What Castiel had done, to Dean, to Sam, marks nothing of deserving forgiveness. He had expected Dean to lash out that night until he fixed Sam's wall. Instead, the hunter...No. Castiel wouldn't reflect on that. Those kinds of feelings were not welcomed. Castiel focused on the discussion that Sam was trying to have with him. He felt that he didn't deserve what Sam was going to say, and he couldn't verbalize anything. Castiel couldn't verbalize his refusal. To tell Sam not to offer it. In heaven, there wasn't this kind of forgiveness. Only pain.

When Castiel hadn't spoke, and only tensed up, Sam decided to make this heart-to-heart conversation quick. Hell, he could practically hear Dean's voice nagging in his head about being a girl anyways.

"I want to say that I forgive you for knocking down the wall; I wouldn't be able to say that at all until tonight. Well, last night, I didn't think that..."

'You loved Dean' danced on the end of his tongue. Instead Sam spoke, " I believe that the bond between you and Dean wasn't the only thing that went odd during the hunt. Lucifer is gone from my head entirely and I'm not seeing visions or torture or even flames. I think it had to do with the Witch's spell. Her desire spell because I desired to be sane again. And well, 'poof' I am. So I'm not upset or angry anymore, and I don't think Dean is either not after what I saw three weeks ago."

Now, Sam felt the angel shift beside him and Sam only focused on the brick walls in front of him to avoid making Castiel uncomfortable. Silence fell into the Impala again for several minutes before Castiel spoke, "My apologies Sam. I did not mean for you to witness. My thoughts and reactions escaped me the moment Dean kissed me."

Sam shuddered a bit, sending traumatized shivers down his arms as his mind tried to play the scene that he stumbled into. Dean's sexual activities never ceased to scar him but seeing his brother being mounted, by a male angel no less; there wasn't enough brain bleach in the universe to erase it. Then Castiel's word truly soaked into his mind, and he looked to the angel with horrified, shocked expression before gasping out in what could be a higher pitch of his voice than usual, "Dean kissed you? But from what I saw..." His words died in his throat, as a flaming blush grew across his cheeks. He did not want to finish that sentence but he struggled to say more. The stubborn side of him wouldn't quit.

"Your brother may have initiated the physical contact of our lips at first. He did not seem opposed to more when I pressed him to the bed. In fact, he seemed quite enthralled with the idea," simply stated Castiel, with no sense of embarrassment.

Sam though, choked on his tongue from the angel's bluntness and coughed as he tried to tune out the over share of details. This heart to heart conversation just crossed into uncomfortable territory. Sam shifted in his seat and cleared his throat, "Right...Uh...since we're here and everything, let's take Dean inside before people notice that he's covered in blood," suggested Sam.

Sam was right in the middle of opening the Impala's door when a hollow growling sound echoed within the classic car. His eyes flickered to Castiel as the angel looked down at his stomach. Letting out a small chuckle, Sam smiled, "Dude, was that your stomach?"

"I require nourishment," stated Castiel as his hand pressed against his lower abdomen. Before either could say more, there was a loud groan from the back seat and Castiel's stomach soon growled afterwords. Sam didn't laugh this time, but his eyes flickered from the angel to his brother in the backseat then finally removing himself from the car.

Castiel moved from his place and helped Sam carry Dean into the motel room; much of the hunter's weight mainly on him due to Sam's injuries. In five minutes, Dean was sprawled on the motel bed, still rhythmically breathing in clothes covered in vampire blood. Sam sat at the small table grimacing as he finally addressed his minor wounds. Castiel was at lost, not knowing what to do with himself and he stood in the room of the room counting the cracks in the crumbling plaster. Then his stomach growled painfully; which caught Sam's attention.

"Oh, right. Sorry Cas, you need food," mumbled Sam. He mentally lectured himself about abusing his brother's angel by neglecting to feed his new requirement for food. Sam grabbed the keys that sat in front of him on the table and stood.

"There isn't much here, I'll run by someplace and grab something. No doubt that Dean will want something," said Sam as he headed for the door. Shivers jumped up and down his spine and Sam glanced over his shoulder, meeting Castiel's stare. "You know, Dean hates wearing hunting clothes to bed. Think you can do me the favor and undress him while I get food?"

The angel simply nodded, as his not-so-transparent eyes roamed over his brother. Sam smirked a little and took that look as his clue to leave. Before closing the door after him completely, Sam spoke, "You might want to get cleaned up too, since you carried Dean and all. Grab some clothes from his bag, I'm pretty sure that he won't mind, and they'll fit better."

The door clicked closed and Castiel was alone with Dean, once again. His eyes flickered down at his bloodstained trench coat then looked over to the matching bloodstain hunter. He stared at him for several moments, marveling over the concept of dark clothing. That, the brothers wore dark clothing for a reason. With pure intentions, Castiel wondered over to the bed and removed Dean's socks and boots from his body. When they were neatly placed towards the end of the bed, Castiel was at lost what to do next. Yesterday, he would've been able to undress Dean with a simple flick of his wrist, but now, his fingers shook nimbly as he gingerly lifted the slightly bigger man, leaning his body onto his to removed his jacket and shirt. Castiel cursed in Enochian as Dean let out warm breath on the side of his neck, sending shivers everywhere around his body.

Swallowing the torturous growing lump in his throat, Castiel placed Dean down on the pillows again as he mentally gave himself a pep talk. He had seem Dean naked before, several times in fact. The man was his charge after all but having seeing him naked and undressing him, felt like two different oddities. Undressing him by his own hand, felt like a lover, like all those women that are to have Dean. Something in his chest sparked and he pressed it down. If Castiel could venture into the fiery depths of hell to pull this man out, then he was more than capable of undressing him.

With mentally-driven focus and some struggling, Castiel managed to untangle Dean from his bloodstain clothing that were neatly arranged at the end of the bed, with his boots. Dean was stripped down to his olive, green boxers and nothing else. That last piece of undergarment would stay, Castiel didn't know if he could handle seeing anymore of Dean's naked skin without taking the man himself. He stood, from his sitting position on the side of the bed and ripped his eyes away from the temptation that laid before him. Biting his bottom lip in frustration, he flipped the other half of the bedspread over the hunter's skin.

Castiel stood in the middle of the room before looking down at himself. He decided to take Sam's suggestion. He shrugged from his clothes quickly and folded them before placing them on Sam's bed. Lightly, Castiel shut the bathroom door behind him and stood in the small room. It had everything that was needed for the basics of human hygiene. It had a sink, a toilet, and a shower, which Castiel stared at, before experimenting with the silver knobs. When hot, steamy water was to his liking, Castiel stepped in and let the warm liquid caress down his body.

Dean stiffed instinctively as he heard thumping. Not like footsteps, but like the water pipes of the dingy motels. His green eyes peeked open and he was met with a faded cream ceiling over his head. If Dean could guess, he was at the motel that Sam had paid for earlier. Sam must have brought him to the motel after the fight or so, he assumed, he didn't remember much and his younger brother must be in the shower. He groaned and flopped his hand over his eyes; not wanting to make an effort to move again. Everything hurt. This time he wasn't exaggerating. His head felt like it had been jammed into a wood chipper and then some. Every movement felt like his last, his arm, his body, didn't feel anything, like his pain receptors were shot and he was just numb.

His mind though, his mind was perfectly clear. Wings and Cas' glowing blue eyes were the last things he saw. Automatically, his tongue ran over his bottom lip as he remember touching Cas' wings. They were soft and satiny and he kind of like them. There was something about Cas that made him go chick-flicky, and Dean doesn't go girl. Stubbornly against his own body's wishes, Dean sat up, and his hands grabbed at his head to keep it from pulling an Exorcist. All the sounds and sights blended into a mixture of Ow! and WhythehelldidIdothat?- Dean was so preoccupied that he missed the sound of the motel door opening and closing. He only opened his eyes when he felt a dip in the bed and a familiar voice near his face, "Dean? Can you hear me?"

He flinched as his head throbbed. Oh yea, he could hear his dumb brother, the giant was practically screaming in his ear and Dean opened his mouth to make his pain known, "Sammy, quit screamin' at me. I can hear you," snapped Dean.

Unknowingly to Dean, Sam looked startled as he stared at Dean. Sam didn't scream or yell, or shout. He just spoke, in the same tone of voice as he always did. "I wasn't yelling at you Dean," protested Sam then questioned, "How are you feeling?"

"Peachy," replied Dean.

Sam snorted, "Like shit then. I got you some food."

Dean lifted his head to look at his puppy-eyed brother as Sam stood up from the bed and walked over to the small table. He reflexively caught the burger when Sam tossed it at him. Dean looked around the room to check out their new digs until tomorrow. Then his stomach growled and he eagerly sank his teeth into the burger once the wrapping was peeled away. The echoes of splashing water and banging pipes stopped making Dean looked at Sam, then to the closed bathroom door. "You got company?" asked Dean through a mouthful of food.

"No, probably just Cas. I suggested that he grabbed a shower since he was covered in vampire blood because of you," replied Sam while he was setting up his laptop to research more about the spell.

"Cas? The dude doesn't need to shower. He has angel mojo for that shit," stated Dean as he took another mouthful. Dean carefully watched Sam's expression that morphed into 'the look.' The look of- 'I have bad news and you're not going to like it.'

"What is it Sam?"

Sam looked away from him again, and mumbled, "I think Cas lost his powers."

"What?" cried Dean and jumped to his feet, not once realizing that he was wearing nothing but his boxers. The world didn't spin underneath him, that was a good sign, "What do you mean you think Cas lost his powers? When did this happen? Is he human now?"

Sam stabbed at his rabbit food with his plastic fork and looked at Dean over the laptop, "I don't know much. Cas just said that something, I think it was the 'desire spell', messed up your bond with him. And..."

"My bond with him..." repeated Dean. "Since when do I have a bond with him? Yea, Cas is family but a bond? That's a pretty cheesy way of saying friendship ain't it?"

Sam placed his fork down, "No it's not. At least not in your case. The dude created the bond to pull you from hell Dean. He said that you wouldn't be able to feel it and you could live your day to day life. His exact words were, 'He wouldn't be drawn to me as I am to him.' But as we drove back here, he said that the bond was unpredictable, that it was raw and new, and that the both of you would be able to...I guess, channel each other's feelings."

Dean just stood in the middle of the room as his mind digested the information that Sam just gave him. The angel, created a bond with him to pull him out of hell and they were playing share time with feelings, whatever the hell that meant. "So what do we do? I mean the bond is already there right? So, we just do a reversal spell and everything is back to normal. No channeling each other's feelings and bullshit girly crap."

"It's not that easy Dean and you know it. The witch wanted you to 'desire'," Sam held up his fingers in quotations, "to become a vamp. We have to find the spell and see if we can even reverse it. I think the bond with Castiel may have messed up the spell, considering you're not acting remotely interested in become a vampire."

"Oh, yea, Sammy you know it. Being vamp is all the rage now. I think I'll stick to the burgers, " sarcastically replied Dean as he took another bite. "So, this spell, think it messed with Cas' mojo?"

Sam nodded, "Most likely. We'll have to research more."

Which Dean groaned in protest as he walked back to his bed and saying 'that he wished that Bobby was here' was on the tip of tongue when the bathroom door opened. His half eaten burger dropped from Dean's hand and onto the floor with a small plop. Dean's jaw dropped when he saw familiar but dark wet mop of hair and a pale body step from the foggy bathroom with a towel wrapped around his waist. His green eyes never left Castiel's pale body as the angel crossed in the room and started to riffled through his bag.

"Hello Dean" greeted Castiel, "Sam said that I could borrow some of your clothing."

Dean cleared his throat and sputtered with a blush on his face, "Yea...sure Cas. Help yourself." His eyes were trained at the floor but the images of Castiel's naked pale body pulled at him, he felt pooling heat rush at his lower abdomen, and his heart thundering in his chest. Dean shivered where he was rooted, but the intoxicating smell of Castiel's shampoo wafted through the hotel room; he blinked for one long second.

Then when he opened his eyes, his face was greeted with a shocked Castiel pinned to the motel wall. Not knowing what exactly happened, not meeting Cas' eyes, Dean started stammer out a weak apology, then his eyes flickered to the angel's mouth as a small pink tongue traced over his bottom lip. He groaned like the movement was the most sensual thing that he had ever seen, and it was, then plastered his body up Cas', captured the angel's face within his hands then he claimed the angel's mouth with his once again in a harsh kiss.

All he knew was flushing heat from skin against skin, he shoved his one legs in between Castiels's, pressing his hardened manhood against a muscle toweled thigh. Pleasure hissed from between his lips from the pressure, everything felt heightened, greater than their 'moment' three weeks ago. The taste of Castiel's mouth was addictive as he coaxed his lips against Castiel's; trying to get the angel to open his mouth. He growled again, a harsh guttural sound from his throat, when the angel wasn't having it. As Dean, caressed, kissed, nibbled, he could hear the Castiel's little protest against his lips. His 'Dean stop' or 'Dean, don't' or his personal favorite 'I'm not the one you desire Dean.' Who the fuck did Cas think he was? The only person that Dean wants, more specifically now, was Cas.' And the angel was shutting him down. Not happening.

Dean mumbled a clumsy 'Shut up Cas' against the angel's lips before slipping his tongue into the angel's mouth, slowly encouraging him to do something. But the protest still came, along with Sam's voice in the background saying something that was meaningless and probably stupid. Dean was far too gone and far too busy to pay any attention.

From his brother's cries, Dean knew that a part of him should be shocked. Hell, he would be if he saw Sam kissing on an male angel, but no, the feeling of disgust or repulsion wasn't there. It was only need. Hot carnal need that he wanted from Castiel. He grew frustrated Castiel's lips weren't moving but Dean caught a new fascination. With interest, Dean watched as a bead of water dripped from Castiel's wet hair onto his pale shoulder, then finally running down to his collarbone. Dean made the decision right then and there, not to let the water droplet travel any further. He wanted to taste Castiel's skin.

He darted his tongue out and caught the water droplet into his mouth while licking up Castiel's collarbone that tasted of rain; Dean noted that the angel sucked in a harsh breath, and his protests were no longer there. He smirked against the angel's skin and Dean licked his collarbone and nibbled experimentally, which drew a rewarding cry of "Dean!" His ego, along with other parts swelled with pride before he started leaving nips and sloppy kisses down the man's stomach planning, needing, wanting for more. He felt the angel tremble underneath his touches as he dropped to his knee and his hands roamed openly over Castiel's slimmer body.

When his fingers hooked over the edge of the white motel towel, Dean felt shivers racking up and down Castiel's body as he went to yank the towel away. Or tried to. There was a firm, not pale hand that held the towel on, blocking him from what he wanted. Dean's eyes glared upward and met with Sam's before growling out, "Let it go Sam."

"No."

Before Dean could protest, and/or launch himself at Sam's giant form to curse him for being the ultimate cock-blocker of all time. He felt a light touch of fingers that ran up his throat to cup his chin. The pressure that hooked underneath his jaw made Dean look up. His green eyes met with glowing blue, then his world instantly faded to black.

A/N: Next chapter coming up soon.


	5. Blindfolds and Boners

A/N: Another chapter. This story is mainly for my own amusement and to keep me sane while I'm writing TLL. So here's another chapter. Next chapter I'll be introducing an OC- I personally hate it, but I need it to happen. Anyways, I'll update again when TLL has another chapter. Happy reading, please review/give feedback. This story is unbetaed by the way. All mistakes are mine.

Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural.

**Things That Go Bump In The Night**

**Chapter 5- Blindfolds and Boners**

His body felt lethargic, like he was completely drained of any energy. Dean couldn't even summon the strength to open his eyes or to move his arm so he could pick at the painfully twitch at the back of his head. He shifted to rid his body of soreness, and his muscles cried because of lack of use. When his weight shifted, Dean immediately knew that he was in a bathtub from the sounds of sloshing water when he moved. There was light dripping somewhere above his head, Dean hoped it was a leaky shower head and not some dead body hanging over him.

When his legs brushed against something warm that had a familiar shape; his breathing grew steady with his hunter insights on. He felt two firm legs that laced around his, he felt a thud of a heartbeat through his back, and he felt a muscular arm tense around his midsection. Dean wished he had the energy to open his eyes but he relaxed with a soft sigh. His reasoning being, if someone had wanted to kill him, they would have done so already. The tension of his muscles flowed down and his shapely ass pressed against something hard and throbbing from the mere contact. Dean bit back a surprising moan by trapping his bottom lip within his teeth. Again, his body automatically pressed down to get more of the pleasure that rushed over his skin.

The pressure was harder this time, earning Dean a low gasp by his left ear. Dean trembled from the warm breath, sending gooseflesh over his body before realizing what was happening. "Sam?" questioned Dean before adding, "This is crossing the line of uncomfortable right about now. Your boner is pushing against my ass."

His voice sounded unrecognizable to him with the low, almost raspy tone as his words bounced around the room that he assumed was the bathroom. "Dean?" came Sam's voice sounding muffled with some distance, before he heard something click open. Dean turned his head straight to the noise and opened his eyes. Only to see,a dark stripe across his eyes, with a small light across his nose.

Confusion crossed over his features as Dean croaked, "Sam?" from his raw and scratchy throat. Dean heard approaching footsteps and his hand went to fidget with the annoying throbbing on the back of his head. His fingers picked at a hard knot before they were gently brushed them away. Dean knew what his problem was immediately. And people say that he's only a pretty face. Bastards.

"Dude, am I freakin' blindfolded? Why am I freakin' blindfolded?" asked Dean as he whirled his head around to find Sam in the room so he could give his younger brother the glare down of his life. Obviously, he couldn't see, so that plan wouldn't work. He could only what kind of look Sammy was giving him at the moment. Though before he could start fully bitching about being blindfolded, Sam spoke.

"It's for your own good," replied Sam with a higher-pitch tone which made Dean jump from the proximity. He hadn't expected Sam to be that close. The sound made Dean's eyes narrow behind the cloth, because he recognized that tone. Sam was nervous.

"My own good?" parroted Dean carefully, his disbelief made his voice hitch just a bit higher. His fingers went back to the tight knot at the back of his head as he continued to rant, "Just what the hell is that suppose to mean? For my own good? How is this-" Dean yanked at the knot, "For my own good?"

Then he heard Sam sigh and Dean knew without seeing that Sam had his usual, signature bitchface on. "It means," started Sam, "Until you stop trying to molest Castiel and dying every time you look at him, you're wearing the blindfold."

Without a doubt, Dean's head swirled as heat flushed over his cheeks and around his ears. "I wasn't trying to molest Cas!" he denied loudly.

His unconvincing cry echoed through the small bathroom. Oh, but Dean knew it was a lie. There was something about Cas that made him want to take the angel of the lord apart by the touch of his hands, mouth or other parts of his body. Dean fully enjoyed knowing that he flustered Cas against the wall, even if the smaller man had tried to resist him but the levee broke three weeks ago. He knew it was a matter of time before Castiel, the angel of the lord would dry hump him into the ratty motel mattress again.

Tremors of pleasure coursed over his skin as Dean reflected back to all of the "molestations." Dean only gave as good as he got and the memories made his hips ground down onto the throbbing, twitching appendage that pressed against his ass. The pleasure was immediate; Dean was mentally thankful to have his boxers still on. He didn't know if he could restrain himself. There was a husky gasp near his ear again, and the whisper of "Dean" by a gravelly voice sent pulses of warmth to his growing manhood.

Temptation rushed through Dean because he would like nothing better than to capture Cas' lips and swallow down the angel's moan with his mouth. Dean trembled when Cas shifted his hips, shoving his hardened manhood against the cloth of Dean's boxers. Both angel and man groaned together when the angel's manhood managed to slip between Dean's cheeks, still struggling on the cloth of the boxers. They both shifted, and they both moaned from the pleasure of the sensual movements that sent bath water sloshing onto the floor.

The sound of a throat clearing made Dean freeze of embarrassment, along with some shame washed over him. Dean didn't know why he was enjoying the angel's attentions so much. The first go around three weeks was just an accident, but now, it seemed that his body was acting beyond his control. That magnetic pulled Cas to him and himself to Cas. As Dean fought with himself about his growing bisexuality that he never knew that he had, Sam spoke, startling him out of his thoughts.

"So what do you call that Dean?" asked Sam smugly. "Runting or humping?"

With a blush the size of the biggest ball of twine crossing over his cheeks, Dean cleared his throat, "It was nothing Sammy," he replied coolly. Thankfully, his voice didn't stuttered a bit as he tried to ignore Cas' raging boner still wedged between his body.

Sam snorted again, "Sure, it was nothing. You weren't just trying to screw Castiel in front of me. Whatever you want to call it, I would appreciate if you stopped trying to molest him though. I can only stomach so much."

"You've seen more of me anyways," smirked Dean. "With you walkin' before and what not."

"Don't remind me," stated Sam deadpan. There were still tones of disgust laced within his voice.

Instead of giving Sam another snarky remark, Dean changed the subject. "What do you mean I die whenever I look at Cas?"

There was another Sam sigh before he spoke, "I don't know per say. Castiel and I have been taking turns researching for the last three days. We seem to think that your dying issue relates to your unstable bond with him. Castiel had mentioned that you can see some angel mojo that isn't meant for human eyes, which may be the reason you K.O every time you see him."

Dean nodded his head. It made sense, seeing Cas' wings back at the cabin and the hypnotizing electric shade of blue that Cas' eyes seemed to have adopted all the sudden. "So, why the blindfold? I mean, as long as I don't look at him, I'm good."

Sam snorted again, which Dean couldn't ignore and he spoke, "You really should get that checked out bitch."

Which made Sam laugh and retort with, "Shut it jerk." The good humor faded when Sam continued, "Dean, do you even remember what happened before you-" his voice trailed off.

"Died?" offered Dean. "Dude, as many times as we have died, you should be able to say the damn word by now."

"Fine!" shouted Sam. The anger, frustration and worry echoed around the room, "You have died twice Dean. I've watched you died more times than I can count. The blindfold stays until we figure out how to break the spell and get you back to normal."

"This is bullshit Sammy!" argued Dean. He bolted up from the bathtub, splashing water everywhere, "How the hell am I suppose to hunt? How the hell am I suppose to do anything? That bastard and his army of black goo jackasses won't take a vacation from making all of humankind into walking happy meals just so we can get a handle on this!"

Before Sam even got a chance to argue, Dean continued his angry rant, "I can resist looking at Cas for a damn minute! The guy ain't that good lookin'!" His fingers flew to the knot on the back of his head and unraveled it expertly in a minute. Dean recognized Cas' blue tie as it fell to the bathroom floor. Then his eyes caught a glance of Sammy's bitchface before he felt a warm, wet chest to his back and a pale hand over his eyes.

"Please Dean, Sam is merely expressing his concern for your well-being," whispered Castiel. Dean felt the stumble of the angel's jaw scrape against his lightly. The sensation alone, made Dean tremble. Never before did Cas' lack of personal space affect him so, until now. He didn't want him to move, he only wanted to draw Cas closer, so all that heated skin was pressed against his. Something in his mind should have sent out red flags about his desire for Cas, but nothing happened. Instead, the need to pull the angel closer vibrated within him. Dean was so caught up in his thoughts, he almost missed what Cas was saying, "Neither of us want to witness your death again. Not if we can prevent it in the first place."

Dean's eyes fluttered closed behind Cas' hand as he relished in the warm breath that crossed over his skin. Goosebumps traveled over his body and Dean fought back the shiver of pleasure as he ignored the warmth pooling into his lower body. He couldn't, he refused to get an angel-induced boner in front of Sam. His mind focused on repulsive things that flatten his mood in minutes. When Dean felt less than randy, he cleared his throat and spoke.

"I understand that Cas," his voice came out a barely a whisper but echoed almost loudly around the bathroom. The heat from Castiel's chest radiated to his body, reminding Dean of what transpired between them as of lately. "But I have a job to do," continued Dean, "We have a job to do. Your batteries are recharged aren't they? You could always revive me again."

His tone of voice carried a light bit of humor, because c'mon, just how many times has Cas saved his bacon? Answer would be: Countless. Meanwhile, his 'Saving Angel' count is possibly four? Maybe five times? Though before Cas could answer him, Sam intervened, "You died three days ago Dean. Castiel couldn't heal you. I had to do CPR to revive you and we took turns in the bathtub with you to keep your core temperature from dropping."

Ignoring Sam's angry, girly snippets; Dean looked for confirmation elsewhere. "Cas?" questioned Dean. To his disappointment, the angel put some distance between their heated bodies so their skin was no longer touching.

"Sam is correct. Three days ago my grace was lost due to the unpredictability of our bond. I could not revive you," stated Castiel.

"And your 'angel mojo' now?" asked Dean as he ignored how the two words of 'our bond' made his insides squirm with excitement and discomfort at the same time. The angel's hand was still over his face, preventing him from seeing both Sammy's face and Cas' expression, if he had one.

Then there was a heavy, awkward silence that made Dean automatically suspicious. He really, really wanted to see now. A nagging feeling pestered him as he thought that his brother and his angel were conversing silently to each other. He never really ignored his gut feeling. The fact that they were communicating over his freakin' shoulder irritated him to no end. Not to mention the swirling emotion of jealously that swam within his stomach. Dean would never admit aloud that he was jealous, that feeling reminded him of a knife stabbing into him.

"Is there something you would like to share with the class?" snapped Dean, really addressing no one. Well, maybe Sam more. Dean couldn't be sure if the nerdy angel would completely understand what he had meant. He made no effort to contain the agitation from his tone though. If he was going to be miserable, well, the more the merrier.

This time, it wasn't Sam who answered his question, it was the nerdy angel himself that now stood in the bathtub with him like a shadow. "My angel mojo has recovered soundly."

Though before Dean could question further, Sam cut him off, "But we can't risk you dying and Castiel not being able to help again. So, just, please, wear the blindfold Dean."

It was the tone of desperation that made Dean surrender and just knowing of the look that came with it. His mind imagined Sam's hazel 'puppy-eyes' at him. Dean hated that look and Sam knew that he did. "Fine!" said Dean fighting the urge to throw his hands up in surrender, knowing that he lost the battle. His mouth opened to say something else, but his words fell short and he inhaled sharply when he felt Cas' bare chest to his back again. As Cas leaned forward, Dean had no other choice but to moved his body with the angel's. He hissed when he felt, what was maybe an arm, that crossed over his shoulder.

His eyes remained shut when the hand pulled away from over his eyes for a moment, then the tie fell back over him. The cloth sat comfortably over his eyes, tight enough to stay put, but not painful enough to make the back of his head throb like earlier. Dean could only assume that was Sam's handiwork. When the knot was securely tied, he couldn't stop the rush of warmth that went straight to his growing manhood, knowing that Cas was the one who tied him. Dean always knew deep down that he was a kinky sonofabitch, but Cas' was right along there with him.

"So what now?" asked Dean. His body shivered from both the cold, and the lack of a warm body when Cas pulled away from him and the bathroom suddenly echoed with the sound of draining water. He felt stupid and surprising helpless, as he listened to the water drain for a moment before he continued talking with defeat laced within the undertones of his voice, "I just sit on my ass all damn day while you and feathers research?"

There was that same snort again that was Sam's, "I was thinking more like breakfast first. You haven't eaten for several days, you're probably starving. Then after food, we head to the cabin to research in Bobby's books that he brought over before he-" Sam stopped there and Dean was glad. After all the shit that he gave Sam about saying that four lettered word; Dean couldn't say it when it came in regards to Bobby. It was times like these, when the shit had hit the fan, that both brother's missed the man that they looked as a father. The only thing that Dean wanted to keep of the old man was the beat up, rusty lookin' flask that Bobby took everywhere with him. Everything was either too painful or didn't carry enough memories for him.

"Shall I retrieve nourishment for the both of you?" asked Castiel.

Dean hadn't been aware that the angel had climbed from the tub before him or that he had disappeared from the room all together. Maybe the had angel mojoed from the tub to give them privacy. "Yea Cas," replied Dean as he secretly thanked the angel for breaking the mourning silence between them, "That would be great."

The sound of fluttering wings and rustling clothes was the only way that Dean truly knew that Cas had left. Which brought him to a new topic that was still a sore spot between himself and Cas. Doing the best he could to give eye contact with a freakin' blindfold on, Dean turned his head to where he thought Sam would be. Then he spoke, rather hoping that he wasn't talking to a wall. "How's your head Sammy? No more Lucifer and hell flashbacks since the cabin?"

"Not at all," chirped Sam. Now, Dean didn't even have to look, he knew that Sam was smiling. "It's like nothing happened."

"Good. Hell, I don't mean to question a break when we finally get one about your broken head, but how the hell does Lucifer and everything disappear?" said Dean. There was a light scratchy feeling on his forearm. His fingers coasted over it carefully, before figuring out what it was. He grasping the towel within his hands.

"I really don't know Dean," replied Sam. "Castiel and I have a theory about it. I showed him the golden box that sucked up Lucifer that was back at the cabin, and he seems to think it makes sense."

"Thanks," mumbled Dean and took it from Sam. "So what's the theory?"

He wanted to dry off and really get into clothes before Cas came back. His self control was hardly intact; if the angel returned while he was almost naked, there would be no telling what he would do. "We think that since I was touching the witch while she was casting her desire spell on you, that I got caught in the crossfire."

"So you got the dregs? And from what you're sayin', you desired to have that bastard gone from your head, and because of the spell, he's gone or at least sucked into a little box. That's jest of it right?" mumbled Dean as he ran the towel softly through his short hair, drying it instantly.

He carefully climbed from the bathtub when a cold chill climbed up his spine. Dean stumbled on his slick feet, but caught himself by slapping a hand on the wall. The echo of small snickers let Dean know that Sam was still in the bathroom and had witnessed everything.

"Shut it Sammy," grumbled Dean as a embarrassing blush bloomed across his face.

He used the wall as a guide as he walked to sink. The little glimpse of the bathroom earlier was still in his mind. When he felt his other hand touch the cool counter, he began to fumble around for his deodorant blindly. Dean closed his eyes underneath the blindfold, thinking that it would help him find it. Then he remembered that he was out of commission for three days, and had yet to put his stuff in the bathroom. Instead, he leaned against the wall and said "What I don't get is that the bitch cast the spell on me to want to be a vamp. I'm not feeling the desire to get into a liquid diet, so it didn't work right? I'm not desiring anything."

There was a silence before Sam answered and the chill on Dean's spine made his body tremble. "How do you want me to answer that Dean? Because I think all of us, Castiel included know. So do you want me to say it aloud?"

Dean swallowed hard. Did he want to come out to his brother about his not-so-innocent incident with Cas? Or did he want to sweep it under the rug, and everyone knows but ignores it? Dean was oddly thankful for this choice. "I...uh...I.." stumbled Dean. He struggled to say three little words of 'I want Cas.' They were at the tip of his tongue, holding on inside him.

He jumped when a hand patted him on the back. "I know Dean. You don't have to say anything. I think I saw enough three weeks ago and just now."

"YOU WHAT?" exclaimed Dean. His blush bloomed back upon his face in full force. Sam patted him on the back again, and Dean knew. Oh Dean knew that the bastard had a smirk on his face. Ignoring Sam's comment and the chill down his spine that threatened to make his legs collapse underneath him. Dean gruffly said, "You could make yourself useful ya know."

"Sure Dean. What do you want?" asked Sam, his entertained, smug like tone was still in his voice.

"My shit, so I can get dress," replied Dean.

Sam only snorted at his brother before walking the short distance across the bathroom to open the door to fetch his brother's things. The chilly air from the adjacent room quickly rushed into the steamy bathroom, making goosebumps dance across Dean's flesh. There was a entirely different cold nagging feeling that moved across his spine then down to his legs. Suddenly Dean collapsed to the ground hard.

"What the fuck!" cried Dean as his body crumpled underneath him before mumbling a low, "Goddamnit" from the pain when his head collided with the sink. His head throbbed as he felt Sammy's gigantic feet approach through the vibrations of the floor. Dean made an effort to move his unwilling body just so he didn't have to hear Sam's crappy teasing.

His legs were two heaping piles of unmoving muscle when Sam spoke, "What happened Dean?"

"Fuck if I know," snapped Dean, not caring if he wasn't exactly tolerable at the moment. "My legs buckled underneath me."

"Do you know why?" asked Sam. Dean could feel his studious stare even through the blindfold.

"Quit your starin'" barked Dean. He wanted to rant at Sam about treating him as zoo animal, or a test subject but the cold nagging feeling raced all over him. Before Dean knew it, he was having a seizure. All of his muscles tensed painfully and his head throbbed from the lack of oxygen. There was ringing in his ears, it was high-pitched but nothing like Cas' true voice, though it still hurt nonetheless. Under his ringing, and the tense pain, he heard Sam's panic shouts. Dean would offer comfort to his little brother if he wasn't so worried about biting off his own tongue in the process.

When he thought the pain was bordering to unbearable, there was a soft touch on his forearm that made everything wash away. He felt as if he could breath again which was wonderful when his lungs sucked in the warm, steamy air. Dean didn't know what to say. He could do his usual thing and make a joke about, then obsess about it later when he was alone. He could get Sammy's opinion about the whole thing, which would be chalk full of 'touchy-feely' girlie shit and he didn't know if he could handle that right now without blowing a fuse. Instead, he laid there, staring at the light blue of Cas' tie around his eyes.

"My apologies Dean," stated Castiel, which made Dean jump in surprise all the way to next week. "I am still unaware of how unpredictable the bond would be. It wasn't my intention to put you through pain."

All Dean could do was nod as he slowly sat up from the floor. There was a light touch on his forehead and he knew that the pulsing pain from his fall had been helped. "Thanks Cas," rasped Dean. "Can you tell me what the hell was that about?"

There was a silence, along with a nagging feeling again. Dean automatically knew that his brother and his angel were silently communicating without him again. It was several minutes and Dean was getting annoyed, he opened his mouth to snap at either Sam, Cas or both when Cas replied.

"My disappearance-" started Castiel but he soon fell silent. Not knowing just were to start with explaining. Then Sam cut in, "Dean, you know how I explained that Castiel had to create bond with you to pull you out of hell?"

Dean nodded, he remembered the conversation like yesterday, but in all actuality, it was three days ago. "Ya, what of it?"

"Well, you know in conversation how I said that you could go throughout your day to day life without ever knowing that the bond was there?"

The wheels in Dean's head turned. For as much shit as he gets about Sammy being the smart one; Dean was rather insightful. Underrated, but insightful. "So, what you're saying, is...I'm feelin' shit now because the bond is unpredictable? Right? What does this mean?"

Sam nodded proudly before remembering that Dean couldn't see it, "Yea, exactly. I don't know really unfortunately."

Then Dean hung his head, he wouldn't, couldn't ever catch a freakin' break. Not only was he forbidden to see because angel boy could kill him just by his hot bod. But he would go into freaky tremor mode because of the bond. "You think that this is going to happen every time Cas goes to get us breakfast? Am I going to feel this every time?"

Another annoying silence flowed around the room and he knew that they were talking again. Dean was halfway debating to twiddle his thumbs just out of sheer boredom or to calm himself from killing his brother.

"I believe so," stated Castiel so closely that made Dean jump again. "The witch weakened the shields I placed within you to insure you could maintain the lifestyle of your choosing. Now, I'm afraid we can't not be too far apart from each other. Or at least you to me since you are human."

As a human, Dean knew just what it felt like to have a horrid mixture of feeling churning within gut. Not only did Cas tell him they basically needed to be attached to the hip but basically insulted with the word of 'human.' The angel hadn't done that for several years. What irked him more was Cas saying 'the lifestyle of his choosing.' Just what the hell did he mean by that? His head pulsed, reminding Dean of phantom pains and growing stress headache; oh how he wished for drugs. So, Dean Winchester did what he was famous for: Shoved everything under the rug. If he had to be attached to Cas more so already, so be it. Eventually, they would figure out how to break his spell.

Hopefully.

Dean got up from the floor and held his hand out, hoping that Sammy was still sticking around. His assumption was correct when he felt the shove of his duffel bag into his arms. "Okay, everyone out. I got to get into real clothes. Cold wet boxers ain't for me."

"Dean," stated Castiel. The older Winchester heard footsteps walking away from them as he stood on his shaky legs.

Which made Dean sigh, he knew what the angel was getting at. He fought the urge to rub his eyes as he spoke, "I know we just got done talkin' about ignoring personal space but give me just this once Cas."

"It would be unwise," was the angel's only reply.

He nodded his head, knowing that he could end up being a writhing mass of Dean all over the bathroom floor again if he wasn't around Cas. "The freaky side effects didn't show for a while, maybe ten or fifteen minutes. That's enough time for me to get dress."

When Cas didn't reply right away, Dean knew that he had won this argument. "Very well, but no longer. I do not wish to see you like that again."

"I couldn't agree with you more Cas, It wasn't a walk in the park," said Dean.

"What does walking in the park have to do with your seizures?" asked Castiel. Dean could literally see the head tilt of angel confusion within his mind. He only smiled in amusement and his hands groped the air looking for the angel talking to him. "It's nothing Cas. Now please go help Sam research or something. I would like to get dress and don't come in unannounced. Knock on the door or something would ya?"

"I understand," stated Castiel before leaving the bathroom as well. Dean quickly shut the door behind the angel before making his way to the knot on the back of his head. He literally sighed when he could see again. Or at least for ten or fifteen minutes. Dean quickly rustled into his duffel bag and dressed in a dark blue pair of jeans and a black T- shirt after putting dry, clean boxers on of course. Dean looked at his reflection and determined that he looked like a hobo after three days of not shaving.

Digging into his duffel again, Dean grabbed the razor and shaving cream. He hastily lathered his five o' clock shadow in shaving cream along with his neck. Then he started to shave. Halfway done with shaving, Dean felt the nagging cold on his spine again.

"Damn it," cursed Dean, as he glided the blade up his neck. It didn't even feel like ten minutes had already passed. There was a timid knock on the bathroom door as he pulled the razor from his neck. "Yea?" asked Dean.

"Just wonderin' how you're feeling since ten minutes have gone by," said Sam through the door.

Dean swiped the razor twice before replying, "Just peachy. Quit your worrin.' I'm just about finished in here." Sam didn't reply and Dean quickly finished shaving his face as the chill on his spine grew more unbearable. When his legs started to tremble, Dean ignored cleaning up after himself and snatched up the blindfold to secure it over his eyes with shaky hands. "Cas?" called Dean.

There was a knock on the door and Dean growled out, "Come in," from between his clenched teeth. He was momentarily annoyed by the polite knock on the door when he was about to go on the pain train. But, he knew he shouldn't be. Talk about a double standard, he was unhappy because Cas only did as he asked. Why would anyone deal with him? His head was starting to pound again, it was only a matter of time before he became a writhing mass of pain on the floor again. Then there was a feathery light touch on his shoulder and he automatically relaxed. He could feel the heat from the angel's palm through his t-shirt, "Thanks man."

"I do not wish for you to wait that long again."

Dean chuckled and grinned lightly from the Cas' suggestion that so happened to carry a tone of authority. "No problem Cas."

Then he smelled the greasy scent of food coming from Cas as it slowly drifted around the room. "Breakfast?" asked Dean.

His only answer was a hand grabbing his elbow, leading him out of the bathroom like a small kid. Dean let it happen for now, swallowing his complaints, just because his stomach churned from starvation. A man had to have his priorities after all. As they crossed the motel room, Dean could hear the footfalls of Sammy thumping around the place. He was manhandled by the angel to sit, which Dean liked more than he cared to admit. His mouth opened, prepared to say something that was 'so Dean' when suddenly something that tasted like a breakfast burrito was stuffed into his mouth and his mind went to the gutter. He was living in gutterville as the light feathery touch returned back to his shoulder.

Reflectively, Dean took a bite and chewed then grabbed at the burrito before it became another victim to the motel floor, just as his burger did. "So...uh," said Dean between bites, "We're heading to the cabin after this?"

"Obviously. Now shut up and eat your burrito, we leave in ten minutes." snapped Sam. Dean was shocked by his brother's tone before saying. "Man, who's jizzed in your burrito?"

"Sam is upset with me," came Castiel's voice from behind him.

Dean took another large bite to distract himself from the filthy images that just raced through his mind, "Fwhy?"

"I thought it would be unwise for Sam to harass Lucifer while he's detained," replied Castiel. "I took it upon myself to hide the golden box from your brother. He has yet to accept that he will never find it as long as I wish it."

"That's stupid Cas. After everything that the bastard put Sam through, treating him like a damn salt shaker couldn't hurt. Hell, it would be great therapy for both of us and damn well justifiable," said Dean around the last of his breakfast burrito. He wiped his mouth on his arm before standing up and pulling on his leather jacket that he felt on the back of the chair. Then he didn't know what to do next until something landed at his feet with a thump. Dean bent over and grabbed it. His fingertips cased over two duffel bags and he gathered them in his arms. Apparently he was a pack mule, blindfolded or not.

"Justifiable?" That's a big word coming from you Dean," snapped Sam underneath his breath as he came back from the bathroom.

"Hey! Don't be a dick Samantha! I'm on your side. I'm all for harassing the prick, giving the asshat a taste of his own medicine," exclaimed Dean, putting his hands up on the defense. "We could take turns."

He felt a hand grab at his arm, haling him to someplace. His feet firmly went forward to the brutal pace of the stride, "If you could see Cas' face, he isn't buying it."

Dean now knew that the hand was Sam's and he felt Cas' hand in the dip of his lower back. As he opened his mouth to tell Cas that he isn't a girl and shouldn't be led like one, Dean felt the brutal heat of the sun on his face. The bright light bled through the dark blue flesh of the tie and he could only hope that he wouldn't get any funny tan lines.

"Hey! Hey! Hey!" protested Dean when he felt a hand start to grope him. Well, at least more than usual. "Don't grope me!" he added last, hoping that it would cover both his brother and Cas. The angel may have to touch him, but he didn't want liberties taken, not in front of Sam at least. He heard a snort from in front of him with a metal clack of keys, Dean got his answer moments later.

"Wasn't groping you Dean," replied Sam sounding disgusted. "I need the keys since you're not driving anytime soon."

It wasn't that he completely forgotten that he was blindfolded, but realizing that he wasn't driving his Baby put a damper on his day. He blindly groped for the silver handle of the door and climbed in. Dean realized two things just then. One, he was led to the backseat door and was currently sitting in back. Two, he wasn't alone. The light feathery touch returned, this time landing on his thigh. Swallowing the lump in his throat, Dean realized it was going to be a very long car ride to Montana. The only saving grace that was beating back his sexual tension was the waves of anger from the front seat as the Impala purred to life. It seemed that Samantha was still pissy.

Dean took out Bobby's flask and tipped the burning liquid down his throat. It was going to be a very long car ride indeed.

.


End file.
